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THE    COMEDY   OF  HUMAN  LIFE 
By  H.  DE  BALZAC 


PHILOSOPHICAL    STUDIES 


CATHERINE   DE'   MEDICI 


BALZAC'S     NOVELS. 

Translated  by  Miss  K.  P.  Wormeley. 

Already  l*ublished: 
PERE     GORIOT. 
DUCHESSE     DE     LANGEAIS. 
RISE  AND  FALL  OF  CESAR  BIROTTEAU. 
EUGENIE     GRANDET. 
COUSIN     PONS. 
THE     COUNTRY     DOCTOR. 
THE     TMTO     BROTHERS. 
THE    ALKAHEST. 
MODESTE     MIGNON. 
THE   MAGIC    SKIN  (Peau  de  Chagrin). 
COUSIN     BETTE. 
LOUIS     LAMBERT. 
BUREAUCRACY  (Les  Employes). 
SERAPHITA. 
SONS    OF    THE    SOIL. 
FAME    AND    SORROW^. 
THE   LILY    OF   THE   VALLEY. 
URSULA. 

AN   HISTORICAL   MYSTERY. 
ALBERT    SAVARUS. 
BALZAC  :    A   MEMOIR. 
PIERRETTE. 
THE    CHOUANS. 
LOST    ILLUSIONS. 
A  GREAT  MAN  OF   THE    PROVINCES  IN 

PARIS. 
THE  BROTHERHOOD  OF  CONSOLATION. 
THE    VILLAGE    RECTOR. 
MEMOIRS    OF    TAVO     YOUNG    MARRIED 

WOMEN. 
CATHERINE    DE'    MEDICI. 


ROBERTS    BROTHERS,    Publishers, 
BOSTON. 


HONORE    DL    RALZA 

TRAr SLATKO     PY 

KATHARINE    PRESCOTT    WOr^MEi-EY 


Catherine  de'  Medici 


ROBERTS     BROTHERS 


3     SOMERSET     STREET 


BOSTON 

1894 


GIFT  OF 


Copyrig?U,  1894^ 
By  Roberts  Brothers. 


All  rights  reserved. 


SEni6ersi'ta  ^«ss: 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge,  U.S.A. 


To  Monsieur  le  Marquis  de  Pastoret,  Member  of  the 

ACADEMIE  DES  BeAUX-ArTS. 

When  we  think  of  the  enormous  number  of  volumes  that 
have  been  published  on  the  question  as  to  where  Hannibal 
crossed  the  Alps,  without  our  being  able  to  decide  to-day 
whether  it  was  (according  to  Whittaker  and  Rivaz)  by  Lyon, 
Geneva,  the  Great  Saint-Bernard,  and  the  valley  of  Aosta ; 
or  (according  to  Letronne,  Follard,  Saint-Simon,  and  Fortia 
d'Urbano)  by  the  Isere,  Grenoble,  Saint-Bonnet,  Monte  Gen- 
evra,  Fenestrella,  and  the  Susa  passage ;  or  (according  to 
Larauza)  by  the  Mont  Cenis  and  the  Susa ;  or  (according  to 
Strabo,  Polybius,  and  Lucanus)  by  the  Rhone,  Vienne,  Yenue, 
and  the  Dent  du  Chat;  or  (according  to  some  intelligent 
minds)  by  Genoa,  La  Bochetta,  and  La  Scrivia,  —  an  opinion 
which  I  share  and  which  Napoleon  adopted,  —  not  to  speak 
of  the  verjuice  with  which  the  Alpine  rocks  have  been  be- 
spattered by  various  other  learned  men,  —  is  it  surprising, 
^Monsieur  le  marquis,  to  see  modern  history  so  bemuddled 
that  many  important  points  are  still  obscure,  and  the 
most  odious  calumnies  still  rest  on  names  that  ought  to  be 
respected  ? 

And  let  me  remark,  in  passing,  that  Hannibars  crossing 
has  been  made  almost  problematical  by  these  very  elucida- 
tions. For  instance,  Pere  Menestrier  thinks  that  the  Scoras 
mentioned  by  Polybius  is  the  Saone ;  Letronne,  Larauza  and 
Schweighauser  think  it  the  Isere  ;  Cochard,  a  learned  Lyon- 
nais,  calls  it  the  Drome,  and  for  all  who  have  eyes  to  see 
there  are  between  Scoras  and  Scrivia  great  geographical  and 
linguistical  resemblances,  —  to  say  nothing  of  the  probability, 
amounting  almost  to  certainty,  that  the  Carthaginian  fleet 


Yl 


was  moored  in  the  Gulf  of  Spezzia  or  the  roadstead  of 
Genoa.  1  could  understand  these  patient  researches  if  there 
were  any  doubt  as  to  the  battle  of  Canna ;  but  inasmuch  as 
the  results  of  that  battle  are  known,  why  blacken  paper  with 
all  these  suppositions  (which  are,  as  it  were,  the  arabesques 
of  hypothesis)  while  the  history  most  important  to  the  present 
day,  that  of  the  Reformation,  is  full  of  such  obscurities  that 
we  are  ignorant  of  the  real  name  of  the  man  who  navigated 
a  vessel  by  steam  to  Barcelona  at  the  period  when  Luther 
and  Calvin  were  inaugurating  the  insurrection  of  thought.^ 

You  and  I  hold,  I  think,  the  same  opinion,  after  having 
made,  each  in  his  own  way,  close  researches  as  to  the  grand 
and  splendid  figure  of  Catherine  de'  Medici.  Consequently, 
I  have  thought  that  my  historical  studies  upon  that  queen 
might  properly  be  dedicated  to  an  author  who  has  written 
so  much  on  the  history  of  the  Reformation;  while  at  the 
same  time  I  offer  to  the  character  and  fidelity  of  a  monarch- 
ical writer  a  public  homage  which  may,  perhaps,  be  valuable 
on  account  of  its  rarity. 

*  The  name  of  the  man  who  tried  this  experiment  at  Barcelona 
should  be  given  as  Salomon  de  Caux,  not  Caus.  That  great  man 
has  always  been  unfortunate;  even  after  his  death  his  name  is 
mangled.  Salomon,  whose  portrait  taken  at  the  age  of  forty-six 
was  discovered  by  the  author  of  the  "  Comedy  of  Human  Life  "  at 
Heidelberg,  was  born  at  Caux  in  Normandy.  He  was  the  author 
of  a  book  entitled  "  The  Causes  of  moving  Forces,"  in  which  he 
gave  the  theory  of  the  expansion  and  condensation  of  steam.  He 
died  in  1635. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Introduction 1 


PART    FIRST. 

I.  The  Calvinist 61 

II.  The  Burghers 77 

III.  The  Chateau  de  Blois 93 

IV.  The  Queen-Mother 107 

V.  The  Court 123 

VI.  The  Little  Lever  of  Francois  IL  .     .     .  144 

VII.  A  Drama  in  a  Surcoat 160 

VIII.  Martyrdom 172 

IX.  The  Tumult  at  Amboise 189 

X.  Cosmo  Ruggiero 207 

XI.  Ambroise  Pare 224 

XII.  Death  of  Francois  II 237 

XriL  Calvin 250 

XIV.  Catherine  in  Power 272 

XV.  Compensation 289 


viii  Contents, 

PART    SECOND. 
THE    SECRETS  OF    THE    RUGGIERI. 

FAG£ 

I.     The  Court  under  Charles  IX 306 

II.     Schemes  against  Schemes 320 

III.  Marie  Touchet 352 

IV.  The  King's  Tale 367 

V.     The  Alchemists 378 

PART    THIRD. 
I.     Two  Dreams 402 


CATHERINE    DE'    MEDICI. 


INTRODUCTION. 

There  is  a  general  cry  of  paradox  when  scholars, 
struck  by  some  historical  error,  attempt  to  correct  it ; 
but,  for  whoever  studies  modern  history  to  its'deptlis, 
it  is  plain  that  historians  are  privileged  liars,  who  lend 
their  pen  to  popular  beliefs  precisely  as  the  newspapers 
of  the  day,  or  most  of  them,  express  the  opinions  of 
their  readers. 

Historical  independence  has  shown  itself  much  less 
amonoj  lav  writers  than  amonsj  those  of  the  Church. 
It  is  from  the  Benedictines,  one  of  the  glories  of 
France,  that  the  purest  light  has  come  to  us  in  the  mat- 
ter of  history,  — so  long,  of  course,  as  the  interests  of 
the  order  were  not  involved.  About  the  middle  of  the 
eighteenth  century  great  and  learned  controversialists, 
struck  by  the  necessit}'  of  correcting  popular  errors 
endorsed  by  historians,  made  and  published  to  the 
world  very  remarkable  works.  Thus  Monsieur  de 
Launo}',  nicknamed  the  "  Expeller  of  Saints,"  made 
cruel  war  upon  the  saints  surreptitiously  smuggled  into 
the  Church.  Thus  the  emulators  of  the  Benedictines, 
the  members  (too  little  recognized)  of  the  Academic 

1 


2  iTitroditction, 

de&  Jaiscriptiohsj'et  Belks-lettres,  began  on  many  ob- 
scure historical  points  a  series  of  monographs,  which  are 
admirable  for  patience,  erudition,  and  logical  consis- 
tencj'.  Thus  Voltaire,  for  a  mistaken  purpose  and  with 
ill-judged  passion,  frequent!}'  cast  the  light  of  his 
mind  on  historical  prejudices.  Diderot  undertook  in 
this  direction  a  book  (much  too  long)  on  the  era  of 
imperial  Rome.  If  it  had  not  been  for  the  French 
Revolution,  criticism  applied  to  history  might  then 
have  prepared  the  elements  of  a  good  and  true  history 
of  Franco,  the  proofs  for  which  had  long  been  gathered 
bj'  the  Benedictines.  Louis  XVI.,  a  just  mind,  himself 
translated  the  English  work  in  which  Walpole  endeav- 
ored to  explain  Richard  III.,  —  a  work  much  talked  of 
in  the  last  century. 

Wh}"  do  personages  so  celebrated  as  kings  and 
queens,  so  important  as  the  generals  of  armies,  be- 
come objects  of  horror  or  derision?  Half  the  world 
hesitates  between  the  famous  song  on  Marlborough  and 
the  history  of  England,  and  it  also  hesitates  between 
histor}'  and  popular  tradition  as  to  Charles  IX.  At  all 
epochs  when  great  struggles  take  place  between  the 
masses  and  anthorit}',  the  populace  creates  for  itself  an 
ogre-esque  personage  —  if  it  is  allowable  to  coin  a  word 
to  conve}'  a  just  idea.  Thus,  to  take  an  example  in 
our  own  time,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  "  Memorial  of 
Saint  Helena,"  and  the  controversies  between  the 
Royalists  and  the  Bonapartists,  there  was  ever}'  prob- 
ability that  the  character  of  Napoleon  would  have  been 
misunderstood.  A  few  more  Abbe  de  Pradts,  a  few 
more  newspaper  articles,  and  from  being  an  emperor, 
Napoleon  would  have  turned  into  an  ogre. 


Introduction.  3 

How  does  error  propagate  itself?  The  m3'ster3'  is 
accomplished  under  our  very  eyes  without  our  perceiv- 
ing it.  No  one  suspects  how  much  solidit}'  the  art  of 
printing  has  given  both  to  the  envy  which  pursues  great- 
ness, and  to  the  popular  ridicule  which  fastens  a  con- 
trary sense  on  a  grand  historical  act.  Thus,  the  name 
of  the  Prince  de  Polignac  is  given  throughout  the- length 
and  breadth  of  France  to  all  bad  horses  that  require 
whipping ;  and  who  knows  how  that  will  affect  the  opin- 
ion of  the  future  as  to  the  coup  d'Etat  of  the  Prince  de 
Polignac  himself?  In  consequence  of  a  whim  of  Shake- 
speare —  or  perhaps  it  maj'  have  been  a  revenge,  like  that 
of  Beaumarchais  on  Bergasse  (Bergearss)  — Falstaff  is, 
in  England,  a  type  of  the  ridiculous  ;  his  y^x^  name 
provokes  laughter  ;  he  is  the  king  of  clowns.  Now,  in- 
stead of  being  enormously  pot-bellied,  absurd!}'  amorous, 
vain,  drunken,  old,  and  corrupted,  Falstaff  was  one  of 
the  most  distinguished  men  of  his  time,  a  Knight  of  tlie 
Garter,  holding  a  high  command  in  the  army.  At  the 
accession  of  Henry  V.  Sir  John  Falstaff  was  only  thirty- 
four  years  old.  This  general,  who  distinguished  him- 
self at  the  battle  of  Agincourt,  and  there  took  prisoner 
the  Due  d'Alenqon,  captured,  in  1420,  the  town  of 
Montereau,  which  was  vigorously  defended.  Moreover, 
under  Henry  VI.  he  defeated  ten  thousand  French 
troops  with  fifteen  hundred  wear}-  and  famished  men. 

So  much  for  war.  Now  let  us  pass  to  literature,  and 
see  our  own  Rabelais,  a  sober  man  who  drank  nothing 
but  water,  but  is  held  to  be,  nevertheless,  an  extrava- 
gant lover  of  good  cheer  and  a  resolute  drinker.  A 
thousand  ridiculous  stories  are  told  about  the  author  of 
one  of  the  finest  books  in  French  literature,  — ''  Panta* 


4  Introduction. 

gruel."  Aretino,  the  friend  of  Titian,  and  the  Voltaire 
of  his  centiiiy,  lias,  in  our  da}',  a  reputation  the  exact 
opposite  of  his  works  and  of  his  character  ;  a  reputation 
which  he  owes  to  a  grossness  of  wit  in  keeping  with  the 
writings  of  his  age,  w  ju  broad  farce  was  held  in  honor, 
and  queens  and  cardinals  wrote  tales  which  would  be 
called,  in  these  days,  licentious.  One  might  go  on  mul- 
tipl3ing  such  instances  indefinitely. 

In  France,  and  that,  too,  during  the  most  serious 
epoch  of  modern  history,  no  woman,  unless  it  be  Brune- 
haut  or  Fredegonde,  has  suffered  from  popular  error  so 
much  as  Catherine  de'  Medici ;  whereas  Marie  de'  Me- 
dici, all  of  whose  actions  were  prejudicial  to  France, 
has  escaped  the  shame  which  ought  to  cover  her  name. 
Marie  de'  Medici  wasted  the  wealth  amassed  by  Henry 
IV.  ;  she  never  purged  herself  of  the  charge  of  having 
known  of  the  king's  assassination  ;  her  intimate  was 
d'Epernon,  who  did  not  ward  off  Ravaillac's  blow,  and 
who  w^as  proved  to  have  known  the  murderer  personall}'' 
for  a  long  time.  Marie's  conduct  was  such  that  she  forced 
her  son  to  banish  her  from  P>ance,  where  she  was  en- 
couraging her  other  son,  Gaston,  to  rebel ;  and  the  vic- 
tory Richelieu  at  last  w^on  over  her  (on  the  Day  of  the 
Dupes)  was  due  solely  to  the  discovery  the  cardinal 
made,  and  imparted  to  Louis  XIII.,  of  secret  documents 
relating  to  the  death  of  Henri  IV. 

Catherine  de'  Medici,  on  the  contrary,  saved  the  crown 
of  France  ;  she  maintained  the  roj^al  authority  in  the 
midst  of  circumstances  under  which  more  than  one 
great  prince  would  have  succumbed.  Having  to  make 
head  against  factions  and  ambitions  like  those  of  the 
Guises  and  the  house  of  Bourbon,  against  men  such  as 


Introditction. 

the  two  Cardinals  of  Lorraine,  the  two  Balafres,  and 
the  two  Condes,  against  the  queen  Jeanne  d'Albret, 
Henri  IV.,  the  Connetable  de  Montmorenc}',  Calvin,  the 
three  Colignys,  Theodore  de  Beze,  she  needed  to  pos- 
sess and  to  display  the  rare  quav/;les  and  precious  gifts 
of  a  statesman  under  the  mocking  fire  of  the  Calvinist 
press. 

Tliose  facts  are  incontestable.  Therefore,  to  whoso- 
ever burrows  into  the  history'  of  the  sixteenth  centur}" 
in  France,  the  figure  of  Catherine  de'  Medici  will  seem 
like  that  of  a  great  king.  When  calumnj'  is  once  dissi- 
pated by  facts,  recovered  with  difficulty  from  among  the 
contradictions  of  pamphlets  and  false  anecdotes,  all  ex- 
plains itself  to  the  fame  of  this  extraordinar}'  woman, 
who  had  none  of  the  weaknesses  of  her  sex,  who  lived 
chaste  amid  the  license  of  the  most  dissolute  court  in 
Europe,  and  who,  in  spite  of  her  lack  of  mone}*,  erected 
noble  public  buildings,  as  if  to  repair  the  loss  caused 
by  the  iconoclasms  of  the  Calvinists,  who  did  as  much 
harm  to  art  as  to  the  body  politic.  Hemmed  in  between 
the  Guises  who  claimed  to  be  the  heirs  of  Charlemagne 
and  the  factious  younger  branch  who  sought  to  screen^ 
the  treachery  of  the  Connetable  de  Bourbon  behind  the  ^ 
throne,  Catherine,  forced  to  combat  heresy  which  was 
seeking  to  annihilate  the  monarch}',  without  friends, 
aware  of  treachery-  among  the  leaders  of  the  Catholic 
party,  foreseeing  a  republic  in  the  Calvinist  part}',  \ 
Catherine  employed  the  most  dangerous  but  the  surest 
weapon  of  public  policy, —  craft.  She  resolved  to  trick 
and  so  defeat,  successively,  the  Guises  who  were  seek- 
ing the  ruin  of  the  house  of  Valois,  the  Bourbons  \s\\o 
sought  the  crown,  and  the  Reformers  (the  Radicals  of 


6  Introduction. 

those  days)  who  dreamed  of  an  impossible  repubUc  — 
like  those  of  our  time  ;  who  have,  however,  nothing  to 
reform.  Consequently,  so  long  as  she  lived,  the  Valois 
kept  the  throne  of  France.  The  great  historian  of  that 
time,  de  Thou,  knew  well  the  value  of  this  woman 
when,  on  hearing  of  her  death,  he  exclaimed :  "  It  is 
not  a  woman,  it  is  monarch^^  itself  that  has  died!" 

Catherine  had,  in  the  highest  degree,  the  sense  of 
royalty-,  and  she  defended  it  with  admirable  courage 
and  persistency-.  The  reproaches  which  Calvinist 
writers  have  cast  upon  her  are  to  her  glorj' ;  she  in- 
curred them  b}'  reason  onh'  of  her  triumphs.  Could 
she,  placed  as  she  was,  triumph  otherwise  than  by 
craft?     The  whole  question  lies  there. 

As  for  violence,  that  means  is  one  of  the  most  dis- 
puted questions  of  public  policj' ;  in  our  time  it  has  been 
answered  on  the  Place  Louis  XV.,  where  the}'  have  now 
set  up  an  Egj'ptian  stone,  as  if  to  obliterate  regicide 
and  offer  a  symbol  of  the  S3'stem  of  materialistic  policy 
which  governs  us ;  it  was  answered  at  the  Carmes  and 
at  the  Abbaye  ;  answered  on  the  steps  of  Saint-Roch ; 
answered  once  more  by  the  people  against  the  king 
before  the  Louvre  in  1830,  as  it  has  since  been 
answered  b}-  Lafayette's  best  of  all  possible  republics 
against  the  republican  insurrection  at  Saint-Merri  and 
the  rue  Transnonnain.  All  power,  legitimate  or  ille- 
gitimate, must  defend  itself  when  attacked  ;  but  the 
strange  thing  is  that  where  the  people  are  held  heroic 
in  their  victory  over  the  nobilit}',  power  is  called  mur- 
derous in  its  duel  with  the  people.  If  it  succumbs 
after  its  appeal  to  force,  power  is  then  called  imbecile. 
Tiie  present  government  is  attempting  to  save  itself  b}' 


Introduction,  7 

two  laws  from  the  same  evil  Charles  X.  tried  to  es- 
cape by  two  ordinances;  is  it  not  a  bitter  derision? 
Is  craft  permissible  in  the  hands  of  power  against 
craft?  may  it  kill  those  who  seek  to  kill  it?  The 
massacres  of  the  Revolution  have  replied  to  the  mas- 
sacres of  Saint-Bartholomew.  The  people,  become  king, 
have  done  against  the  king  and  the  nobility  what  the 
king  and  the  nobility  did  against  the  insurgents  of  the 
sixteenth  century.  Therefore  the  popular  historians, 
who  know  very  well  that  in  a  like  case  the  people  will 
do  the  same  thing  over  again,  have  no  excuse  for  blam- 
ing Catherine  de'  Medici  and  Charles  IX. 

*' All  power,"  said  Casimir  Perier,  on  learning  what 
power  ought  to  be,  '^  is  a  permanent  conspiracy."  We 
admire  the  anti-social  maxims  put  forth  by  daring 
writers  ;  why,  then,  this  disapproval  which,  in  France, 
attaches  to  all  social  truths  when  boldl}'  proclaimed? 
This  question  will  explain,  in  itself  alone,  historical 
errors.  Apply  the  answer  to  the  destructive  doctrines 
which  flatter  popular  passions,  and  to  the  conservative 
doctrines  which  repress  the  mad  efforts  of  the  people, 
and  you  will  find  the  reason  of  the  unpopularity  and 
also  the  popularity'  of  certain  personages.  Laubarde- 
mont  and  Laffemas  were,  like  some  men  of  to-day, 
devoted  to  the  defence  of  power  in  which  they  believed. 
Soldiers  or  judges,  thej'  all  obeyed  royalty.  In  these 
days  d'Orth(^z  would  be  dismissed  for  having  misunder- 
stood the  orders  of  the  ministry,  but  Charles  X.  left 
him  governor  of  a  province.  The  power  of  the  man}' 
is  accountable  to  no  one  ;  the  power  of  one  is  compelled 
to  render  account  to  its  subjects,  to  the  great  as  well  as 
to  the  small. 


8  Introduction, 

Catherine,  like  Philip  the  Second  and  the  Duke  of 
Alba,  like  the  Guises  and  Cardinal  Granvelle,  saw 
plainly  the  future  that  the  Reformation  was  bringing 
upon  Europe.  She  and  the}^  saw  monarchies,  religion, 
authority  shaken.  Catherine  wrote,  from  the  cabinet  of 
the  kings  of  France,  a  sentence  of  death  to  that  spirit  of 
inquiry  which  then  began  to  threaten  modern  society- ; 
a  sentence  which  Louis  XIV.  ended  by  executing.  The 
revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes  was  an  unfortunate 
measure  only  so  far  as  it  caused  the  irritation  of  all 
Europe  against  Louis  XIV.  At  another  period  England, 
Holland,  and  the  Holy  Roman  Empire  would  not  have 
welcomed  banished  Frenclimen  and  encouraged  revolt 
in  France. 

.Wh}'  refuse,  in  these  days,  to  the  majestic  adversary 
of  the  most  barren  of  heresies  the  grandeur  she  derived 
from  the  struggle  itself?  Calvinists  have  written  much 
against  the  "craftiness"  of  Charles  IX.;  but  travel 
through  France,  see  the  ruins  of  noble  churches,  esti- 
mate the  fearful  wounds  given  by  the  religionists  to  the 
social  bod^',  learn  what  vengeance  they  inflicted,  and 
you  will  ask  yourself,  as  you  deplore  the  evils  of  indi- 
vidualism (the  disease  of  our  present  France,  the  germ 
of  which  was  in  the  questions  of  libert}^  of  conscience 
then  agitated),  —  you  will  ask  yourself,  I  say,  on  which 
side  were  the  executioners.  There  are,  unfortunatel}', 
as  Catherine  herself  says  in  the  third  division  of  this 
Study  of  her  career,  ''in  all  ages  hypocritical  writers 
always  ready  to  weep  over  the  fate  of  two  hundred 
scoundrels  killed  necessarily.'*  Caesar,  who  tried  to 
move  the  senate  to  pity  the  attempt  of  Catiline,  might 
perhaps  have  got  the  better  of  Cicero  could  he  have 
had  an  Opposition  and  its  newspapers  at  his  command. 


Introduction.  9 

Another  consideration  explains  the  historical  and 
popular  disfavor  in  which  Catherine  is  held.  The  Oppo- 
sition in  France  has  always  been  Protestant,  because  it 
has  had  no  policy  but  that  of  negation  ;  it  inherits  the 
theories  of  Lutherans,  Calvinists,  and  Protestants  on 
the  terrible  words  "liberty,"  ''tolerance,"  *'  progress," 
and  "  philosophy."  Two  centuries  have  been  einplo3'ed 
by  the  opponents  of  power  in  establishing  the  doubtful 
doctrine  of  the  libre  arhitre,  —  liberty  of  will.  Two 
other  centuries  were  employed  in  developing  the  first 
coroUar}'  of  liberty  of  will,  namely,  liberty  of  conscience. 
Our  centur}^  is  endeavoring  to  establish  the  second, 
namely,  political  liberty. 

Placed  between  the  ground  already  lost  and  the 
ground  still  to  be  defended,  Catherine  and  the  Church 
proclaimed  the  salutar}'  principle  of  modern  societies, 
imajides^  imus  domi7ius^  using  their  power  of  life  and 
death  upon  the  innovators.  Though  Catherine  was 
vanquished,  succeeding  centuries  have  proved  her  justi- 
fication. The  product  of  liberty  of  will,  religious 
liberty,  and  political  liberty  (not,  observe  this,  to  be 
confounded  with  civil  liberty)  is  the  France  of  to-da}'. 
What  is  the  France  of  1840?  A  country'  occupied 
exclusivel}'  with  material  interests,  —  without  patriotism, 
without  conscience  ;  where  power  has  no  vigor ;  where 
election,  the  fruit  of  liberty  of  will  and  political  libert}*, 
lifts  to  the  surface  none  but  commonplace  men  ;  where 
brute  force  has  now  become  a  necessit}'  against  popu- 
lar violence;  where  discussion,  spreading  into  ever}'- 
thing,  stifles  the  action  of  legislative  bodies ;  where 
mone}'  rules  all  questions;  where  individualism — the 
dreadful  product  of  the  division  of  property  ad  wfini- 


10  Introduction, 

turn  —  will  suppress  the  famil}-  and  devour  all,  even 
the  nation,  which  egoism  will  some  da}^  deliver  over  to 
invasion.  Men  will  say,  "Win'  not  the  Czar?"  just 
as  they  said,  "Why  not  the  Due  d'Orleans?  We 
don't  cUng  to  many  things  even  now  ;  but  fift}'  years 
hence  we  shall  cling  to  nothing. 

Thus,  according  to  Catherine  de'  Medici  and  accord- 
ing to  all  those  who  believe  in  a  well-ordered  society, 
in  social  rtian^  the  subject  cannot  have  libert}^  of  will, 
ought  not  to  teach  the  dogma  of  liberty  of  conscience, 
or  demand  political  liberty.  But,  as  no  societ}'  can 
exist  without  guarantees  granted  to  the  subject  against 
the  sovereign,  there  results  for  the  subject  liberties 
subject  to  restriction.  Libert}',  no ;  liberties,  yes,  — 
precise  and  well-defined  liberties.  That  is  in  harmony 
with  the  nature  of  things. 

It  is,  assuredly',  be^'ond  the  reach  of  human  power  to 
prevent  the  liberty  of  thought ;  and  no  sovereign  can 
interfere  with  mone}'.  The  great  statesmen  who  were 
vanquished  in  the  long  struggle  (it  lasted  five  centuries) 
recognized  the  right  of  subjects  to  great  liberties ;  but 
they  did  not  admit  their  right  to  publish  anti-social 
thoughts,  nor  did  they  admit  the  indefinite  liberty  of  the 
subject.  To  them  the  words  "  subject"  and  "  liberty  " 
were  terms  that  contradicted  each  other ;  just  as  the 
theory  of  citizens  being  all  equal  constitutes  an  absurd- 
ity which  nature  contradicts  at  every  moment.  To 
recognize  the  necessit}-  of  a  religion,  the  necessit}'  of 
authority,  and  then  to  leave  to  subjects  the  right  to 
deny  religion,  attack  its  worship,  oppose  the  exercise 
of  power  by  public  expression  communicable  and  com- 
municated b}'  thought,  was  an  impossibility  which  the 
Catholics  of  the  sixteenth  century  would  not  hear  of. 


Introduction.  11 

Alas  I  the  victor}'  of  Calvinism  will  cost  France  more 
in  the  future  than  it  has  yet  cost  her ;  for  religious  sects 
and  humanitarian,  equalitj-levelling  politics  are,  to-day, 
the  tail  of  Calvinism  ;  and,  judging  by  the  mistakes  of 
the  present  power,  its  contempt  for  intellect,  its  love 
for  material  interests,  in  which  it  seeks  the  basis  of  its 
support  (though  material  interests  are  the  most  treach- 
erous of  all  supports),  we  may  predict  that  unless  some 
providence  intervenes,  the  genius  of  destruction  will 
again  carry  the  day  over  the  genius  of  preservation. 
'I'he  assailants,  who  have  nothing  to  lose  and  all  to  gain, 
understand  each  other  thoroughly  ;  whereas  their  rich 
adversaries  will  not  make  any  sacrifice  either  of  money 
or  self-love  to  draw  to  themselves  supporters. 

The  art  of  printing  came  in  aid  of  the  opposition 
begun  by  the  Vaudois  and  the  Albigenses.  As  soon  as 
human  thought,  instead  of  condensing  itself,  as  it  was 
formerly  forced  to  do  to  remain  in  communicable  form, 
took  on  a  multitude  of  garments  and  became,  as  it 
were,  the  people  itself,  instead  of  remaining  a  sort  of 
axiomatic  divinitv,  there  were  two  multitudes  to  combat, 
—  the  multitude  of  ideas,  and  the  multitude  of  men. 
The  royal  power  succumbed  in  that  warfare,  and  we 
are  now  assisting,  in  France,  at  its  last  combination 
with  elements  which  render  its  existence  difficult,  not 
to  saj'  impossible.  Power  is  action,  and  the  elective 
principle  is  discussion.  There  is  no  polic}',  no  states- 
manship possible  where  discussion  is  permanent. 

Therefore  we  ought  to  recognize  the  grandeur  of  the 
woman  who  had  the  eves  to  see  this  future  and  fouo^jit 
it  bravely.  That  the  house  of  Bourbon  was  able  to 
succeed  to  the  house  of  Valois,  that  it  found  a  crown 


12  Introduction. 

preserved  to  it,  was  due  solely  to  Catherine  de'  Medici. 
Suppose  the  second  Balafre  had  lived?  No  matter  how 
strong  the  Bearnais  was,  it  is  doubtful  whether  he  could 
have  seized  the  crown,  seeing  how  dearl}-  the  Due  de 
Mayenne  and  the  remains  of  the  Guise  party  sold  it  to 
him.  The  means  employed  by  Catherine,  who  certainly 
had  to  reproach  herself  with  the  deaths  of  Francois  II. 
and  Charles  IX.,  whose  lives  might  both  have  been 
saved  in  time,  were  never,  it  is  observable,  made  the  sub- 
^ject  of  accusations  by  either  the  Calvinists  or  modern 
historians.  Though  there  was  no  poisoning,  as  some 
grave  writers  have  said,  there  was  other  conduct  almost 
as  criminal ;  there  is  no  doubt  she  hindered  Pare  from 
saving  one,  and  allowed  the  other  to  accomplish  his  own 
doom  by  moral  assassination.  But  the  sudden  death 
of  Frangois  II.,  and  that  of  Charles  IX.,  were  no  injury 
to  the  Calvinists,  and  therefore  the  causes  of  these  two 
events  remained  in  their  secret  sphere,  and  were  never 
suspected  either  by  the  writers  or  the  people  of  that 
da}' ;  they  were  not  divined  except  by  de  Thou,  I'Hopi- 
tal,  and  minds  of  that  calibre,  or  hj  the  leaders  of  the 
two  parties  who  were  coveting  or  defending  the  throne, 
and  believed  such  means  necessary  to  their  end. 

Popular  songs  attacked,  strangel}'  enough,  Catherine's 
morals.  Every  one  knows  the  anecdote  of  the  soldier 
who  was  roasting  a  goose  in  the  court3'ard  of  the  chateau 
de  Tours  during  the  conference  between  Catherine  and 
Henri  IV.,  singing,  as  he  did  so,,  a  song  in  which  the 
queen  was  grossly  insulted.  Henri  IV.,  drew  his  sword 
to  go  out  and  kill  the  man  ;  but  Catherine  stopped  him 
and  contented  herself  with  caUing  from  the  window  to 
her  insulter:  '• — 


Introduction.  13 

^'  Eh !  but  it  was  Catherine  who  gave  3'ou  the  goose." 

Thouo:h  the  executions  at  Amboise  were  attributed  to 
Catherine,  and  though  the  Calvinists  made  her  responsi- 
ble for  all  the  inevitable  evils  of  that  struggle,  it  was 
with  her  as  it  was,  later,  with  Robespierre,  who  is  still 
waiting  to  be  justly  judged.  Catherine  was,  moreover, 
riglitl}'  punished  for  her  preference  for  the  Due  d*Anjou, 
to  whose  interests  the  two  elder  brothers  were  sacri- 
ficed. Henri  III.,  like  all  spoilt  children,  ended  in 
becoming  absolutely  indifferent  to  his  mother,  and  he 
plunged  voluntarily  into  the  life  of  debauchery-  which 
made  of  him  what  his  mother  had  made  of  Charles  IX., 
a  husband  without  sons,  a  king  without  heirs.  Un- 
happily the  Due  d'Alenqon,  Catherine's  last  male  child, 
had  alread}'  died,  a  natural  death. 

The  last  words  of  the  great  queen  were  like  a  sum- 
ming up  of  her  lifelong  polic}',  which  was,  moreover,  so 
plain  in  its  common-sense  that  all  cabinets  are  seen 
under  similar  circumstances  to  put  it  in  practice. 

''Enough  cut  off,  my  son,"  she  said  when  Henri  III. 
came  to  her  death-bed  to  tell  her  that  the  great  enemy 
of  the  crown  was  dead,  "  now  piece  together. ^^ 

By  which  she  meant  that  the  throne  should  at  once 
reconcile  itself  with  the  house  of  Lorraine  and  make  use 
of  it,  as  the  only  means  of  preventing  evil  results  from 
the  hatred  of  the  Guises,  —  b}'  holding  out  to  them  the 
hope  of  surrounding  the  king.  But  the  persistent  craft 
and  dissimulation  of  the  woman  and  the  Italian,  which 
she  had  never  failed  to  emplo}',  was  incompatible  with 
the  debauched  life  of  her  son.  Catherine  de'  Medici 
once  dead,  the  polic}-  of  the  Valois  died  also. 

Before  undertaking  to  write  the  history  of  the  man- 


14  Introduction. 

ners  and  morals  of  this  period  in  action,  the  author  of 
this  Study  has  patiently  and  minutel}'  examined  the 
principal  reigns  in  the  historj^  of  France,  the  quarrel 
of  the  Burgundians  and  the  Armagnacs,  that  of  the 
Guises  and  the  Valois,  each  of  which  covers  a  centur}'. 
His  first  intention  was  to  write  a  picturesque  history  of 
France.  Three  women  —  Isabella  of  Bavaria,  Cathe- 
rine and  Marie  de'  Medici  —  hold  an  enormous  place 
in  it,  their  sway  reacliing  from  the  fourteenth  to  the 
seventeenth  century,  ending  in  Louis  XIV.  Of  these 
three  queens,  Catherine  is  the  finer  and  more  inter- 
esting. Hers  was  virile  power,  dishonored  neither 
by  the  terrible  amours  of  Isabella  nor  hy  those,  even 
more  terrible,  though  less  known,  of  Marie  de*  Medici. 
Isabella  summoned  the  English  into  France  against 
her  son,  and  loved  her  brother-in-law,  the  Due  d'Or- 
leans.  The  record  of  Marie  de*  Medici  is  heavier  still. 
Neither  had  political  genius. 

It  was  in  the  course  of  these  studies  that  the  writer 
acquired  the  conviction  of  Catherine's  greatness  ;  as  he 
became  initiated  into  the  constantly'  renewed  diflficulties 
of  her  position,  he  saw  with  what  injustice  historians  — 
all  influenced  by  Protestants  —  had  treated  this  queen. 
Out  of  this  conviction  grew  the  three  sketches  which 
here  follow  ;  in  which  some  erroneous  opinions  formed 
upon  Catherine,  also  upon  the  persons  who  surrounded 
her,  and  on  the  events  of  her  time,  are  refuted.  If  this 
book  is  placed  among  the  Philosophical  Studies,  it  is 
because  it  shows  the  Spirit  of  a  Time,  and  because  we 
may  clearly  see  in  it  the  influence  of  thought. 

But  before  entering  the  political  arena,  where  Cathe- 
rine will  be  seen  facing  the  two  great  difficulties  of  her 


Introduction,  15 

career,  it  is  necessary  tx)  give  a  succinct  account  of 
her  preceding  life,  from  tlie  point  of  view  of  impartial 
criticism,  in  order  to  take  in  as  much  as  possible  of  this 
vast  and  regal  existence  up  to  the  moment  when  the 
first  part  of  the  present  Stud}*  begins. 

Never  was  there  at  any  period,  in  an}'  land,  in  any 
sovereign  family,  a  greater  contempt  for  legitimacy 
tiian  in  the  famous  house  of  the  Medici.  On  the 
subject  of  power  the}"  held  the  same  doctrine  now 
professed  by  Russia,  namely :  to  whichever  head  the 
crown  goes,  he  is  the  true,  the  legitimate  sovereign, 
^lirabeau  had  reason  to  say:  "There  has  been  but  one 
mesalliance  in  my  family,  —  that  of  the  Medici ;  "  for  in 
spite  of  the  paid  efforts  of  genealogists,  it  is  certain 
that  the  Medici,  before  Everardo  de*  Medici,  gonfalon- 
iero  of  Florence  in  1314,  were  simple  Florentine  mer- 
chants who  became  vei-y  rich.  The  first  personage  in 
this  family  who  occupies  an  important  place  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  famous  Tuscan  republic  is  Silvestro  de* 
Medici,  gonfaloniero  in  1378.  This  Silvestro  had  two 
sons,  Cosmo  and  Lorenzo  de'  Medici. 

From  Cosmo  are  descended  Lorenzo  the  Magnificent, 
the  Due  de  Nemours,  the  Due  d'Urbino,  father  of 
Catherine,  Pope  Leo  X.,  Vo\^  Clement  VII.,  and  Ales- 
sandro,  not  Duke  of  Florence^  as  historians  call  him, 
but  Duke  della  citta  di  Penna^  a  title  given  by  Pope 
Clement  VII.,  as  a  half-way  station  to  that  of  Grand- 
duke  of  Tuscany. 

From  Lorenzo  are  descended  the  Florentine  Brutus 
Lorenzino,  who  killed  Alessandro,  Cosmo,  the  first 
grand  duke,  and  all  the  sovereigns  of  Tuscany  till  1737, 
at  which  period  the  house  became  extinct. 


16  Introduction, 

But  neither  of  the  two  branches  —  the  branch  Cosmo 
and  the  branch  Lorenzo  —  reigned  through  their  direct 
and  legitimate  lines  until  the  close  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  when  the  grand-dukes  of  Tuscan}'  began  to 
succeed  each  other  peacefully.  Alessandro  de'  Medici, 
he  to  whom  the  title  of  Duke  della  citta  di  Penna  was 
given,  was  the  son  of  the  Duke  d'Urbino,  Catherine's 
father,  by  a  Moorish  slave.  For  this  reason  Lorenzino 
claimed  a  double  right  to  kill  Alessandro,  —  as  a 
usurper  in  his  house,  as  well  as  an  opi)ressor  of  the 
city.  Some  historians  believe  that  Alessandro  was 
the  son  of  Clement  VII.  The  fact  that  led  to  the 
recognition  of  this  bastard  as  chief  of  the  republic 
and  head  of  the  house  of  the  Medici  was  his  mar- 
riage with  Margaret  of  Austria,  natural  daughter  of 
Charles  V. 

Francesco  de'  Medici,  husband  of  Bianca  Capello, 
accepted  as  his  son  a  child  of  poor  parents  bought  by 
the  celebrated  Venetian  ;  and,  strange  to  say,  Ferdi- 
nando,  on  succeeding  Francesco,  maintained  the  sub- 
stituted child  in  all  his  rights.  That  child,  called 
Antonio  de'  Medici,  was  considered  during  four  reigns 
as  belonging  to  the  family ;  he  won  the  affection  of 
every  bod}',  rendered  important  services  to  the  famil}-, 
and  died  universally  regretted. 

Nearl}'  all  the  first  Medici  had  natural  children,  whose 
careers  were  invariable'  brilliant.  For  instance,  the 
Cardinal  Giulio  de'  Medici,  afterwards  pope  under  the 
name  of  Clement  VII.,  was  the  illegitimate  son  of 
Giuliano  I.  Cardinal  Ippolito  de'  Medici  was  also  a 
bastard,  and  came  ver}'  near  being  pope  and  the  head 
of  the  family. 


Introduction.  17 

Lorenzo  II.,  the  father  of  Catherine,  married  in  1518, 
for  his  second  wife,  Madeleine  de  la  Tour  de  Boulogne, 
in  Auvergne,  and  died  April  25,  1519,  a  few  days  after 
his  wife,  who  died  in  giving  birth  to  Catherine.  Cathe- 
rine was  therefore  orphaned  of  father  and  mother  as 
soon  as  she  drew  breath.  Hence  the  strange  adven- 
tures of  her  childhood,  mixed  up  as  they  were  with  the 
bloody  efforts  of  the  Florentines,  then  seeking  to  recover 
their  liberty  from  the  Medici.  The  latter,  desirous  of 
continuing  to  reign  in  Florence,  behaved  with  such  cir- 
cumspection that  Lorenzo,  Catherine's  father,  had  taken 
the  name  of  Duke  d'Urbino. 

At  Lorenzo's  death,  the  head  of  the  house  of  the 
Medici  was  Pope  Leo  X.,  who  sent  the  illegitimate  son 
of  Giuliano,  Giulio  de'  Medici,  then  cardinal,  to  govern 
Florence.  Leo  X.  was  great-uncle  to  Catherine,  and 
this  Cardinal  Giulio,  afterward  Clement  VII.,  was  her 
uncle  by  the  left  hand. 

It  was  during  the  siege  of  Florence,  undertaken  by 
the  Medici  to  force  their  return  there,  that  the  Repub- 
lican part}',  not  content  with  having  shut  Catherine, 
then  nine  years  old,  into  a  convent,  after  robbing  her 
of  all  her  propert}',  actualh'  proposed,  on  the  suggestion 
of  one  named  Batista  Cei,  to  expose  her  between  two 
battlements  on  the  walls  to  the  artillery  of  the  Medici. 
Bernardo  Castiglione  went  further  in  a  council  held  to 
determine  how  matters  should  be  ended :  he  was  of 
opinion  that,  so  far  from  returning  her  to  the  pope  as 
the  latter  requested,  she  ought  to  be  given  to  the  sol- 
diers for  dishonor.  This  will  show  how  all  popular 
revolutions  resemble  each  other.  Catherine's  subse- 
quent policy,  which  upheld  so  firmly  the  royal  power, 

2 


18  Introduction, 

may  well  have  been  instigated  in  part  by  such  scenes, 
of  which  an  Italian  ghi  of  nine  years  of  age  was 
assuredl}'  not   ignorant. 

The  rise  of  Alessandro  de'  Medici,  to  wiiich  the 
bastard  Pope  Clement  VII.  powerfully  contributed,  was 
no  doubt  chief!}'  caused  b}'  the  affection  of  Charles  V. 
for  his  famous  illegitimate  daughter  Margaret.  Thus 
pope  and  emperor  were  prompted  by  the  same  senti- 
ment. At  this  epoch  Venice  had  the  commerce  of  the 
world ;  Rome  had  its  moral  government ;  Italy  still 
reigned  supreme  through  the  poets,  the  generals,  the 
statesmen  born  to  her.  At  no  period  of  the  world's 
histor}',  in  any  land,  was  there  ever  seen  so  remark- 
able, so  abundant  a  collection  of  men  of  genius.  There 
were  so  man}',  in  fact,  that  even  the  lesser  princes 
were  superior  men.  Italy  was  crammed  with  talent, 
enterprise,  knowledge,  science,  poesy,  wealth,  and  gal- 
lantry, all  the  while  torn  by  intestinal  warfare  and 
overrun  with  conquerors  struggling  for  possession  of 
her  finest  provinces.  When  men  are  so  strong,  they 
do  not  fear  to  admit  their  weaknesses.  Hence,  no 
doubt,  this  golden  age  for  bastards.  We  must,  more- 
over, do  the  illegitimate  children  of  the  house  of  the 
Medici  the  justice  to  say  that  they  were  ardently  de- 
voted to  the  glory,  power,  and  increase  of  wealth  of 
that  famous  family.  Thus  as  soon  as  the  Duca  delta 
cittb  di  Penna,  son  of  the  Moorish  woman,  was  in- 
stalled as  tyrant  of  Florence,  he  espoused  the  interest 
Pope  Clement  VII.,  and  gave  a  home  to  the  daughter 
of  Lorenzo  II.,  then  eleven  years  of  age. 

When  we  study  the  march  of  events  and  that  of  men 
in  this  curious  sixteenth  century,  we  ought  never  to 


Introduction.  19 

forget  that  public  polic}'  had  for  its  element  a  perpetual 
craftiness,  and  a  dissimulation  which  destroyed,  in  all 
characters,  the  straightforward,  upright  bearing  our 
imaginations  demand  of  eminent  personages.  In  this, 
above  all,  is  Catherine's  absolution.  It  disposes  of  the 
vulgar  and  foolish  accusations  of  treachery  launched 
against  her  by  the  writers  of  the  Reformation.  This 
was  the  great  age  of  that  statesmanship  the  code 
of  which  was  written  by  Macchiavelli  as  well  as  by 
Spinosa,  by  Hobbes  as  well  as  by  Montesquieu,  —  for 
the  dialosfue  between  Sylla  and  Eucrates  contains  Mon- 
tesquieu's  true  thought,  which  his  connection  with  the 
Encyclopedists  did  not  permit  him  to  develop  otherwise 
than  as  he  did. 

These  principles  are  to-day  the  secret  law  of  all 
cabinets  in  which  plans  for  the  conquest  and  main- 
tenance of  great  power  are  laid.  In  France  we  blamed 
Napoleon  when  he  made  use  of  that  Italian  genius 
for  craft  which  was  bred  in  his  bone,  —  though  in  his 
case  it  did  not  always  succeed.  But  Charles  V., 
Catherine,  Philip  II.,  and  Pope  Julius  would  not  have 
acted  otherwise  than  as  he  did  in  the  affair  of  Spain. 
History,  in  the  days  when  Catherine  was  born,  if 
judged  from  the  point  of  view  of  honesty,  would  seem 
an  impossible  tale.  Charles  V.,  obliged  to  sustain 
Catholicism  against  the  attacks  of  Luther,  who  threat- 
ened the  Throne  in  threatening  the  Tiara,  allowed  the 
siege  of  Rome  and  held  Pope  Clement  VII.  in  prison ! 
This  same  Clement,  who  had  no  bitterer  enemy  than 
Charles  V.,  courted  him  in  order  to  make  Alessandro 
de'  Medici  ruler  of  Florence,  and  obtained  his  favorite 
daughter  for  that  bastard.     No  sooner  was  Alessandro 


20  Introduction. 

established  than  he,  conjointl}'  with  Clement  VII.,  en- 
deavored to  injure  Charles  V.  by  allying  himself  with 
Franqois  I.,  king  of  France,  by  means  of  Catherine 
de'  Medici ;  and  both  of  them  promised  to  assist 
Francois  in  reconquering  Itah'.  Lorenzino  de'  Medici 
made  himself  the  companion  of  Alessandro's  debauch- 
eries for  the  express  purpose  of  finding  an  opportunity 
to  kill  him.  Filippo  Strozzi,  one  of  the  great  minds  of 
that  day,  held  this  murder  in  such  respect  that  he 
swore  that  his  sons  should  each  marry  a  dauorhter  of 
the  murderer ;  and  each  son  religiousl}'  fulfilled  his 
father's  oath  when  the}'  might  all  have  made,  under 
Catherine's  protection,  brilliant  marriages  ;  for  one  was 
the  rival  of  Doria,  the  other  a  marshal  of  France. 
Cosmo  de'  Medici,  successor  of  Alessandro,  with  whom 
be  had  no  relationship,  avenged  the  death  of  that  tyrant 
in  the  cruellest  manner,  with  a  persistency  lasting 
twelve  3'ears ;  during  w^hich  time  his  hatred  continued 
keen  against  the  persons  who  had,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
given  him  the  power.  He  was  eighteen  years  old  w^hen 
called  to  the  sovereignt}' ;  his  first  act  was  to  declare 
the  rights  of  Alessandro's  legitimate  sons  null  and 
void,  —  all  the  while  avenging  their  father's  death ! 
Charles  V.  confirmed  the  disinheriting  of  his  grandsons, 
and  recoonized  Cosmo  instead  of  the  son  of  Alessandro 
and  his  daughter  Margaret.  Cosmo,  placed  on  the 
throne  by  Cardinal  Cibo,  instantly  exiled  the  latter; 
and  the  cardinal  revenged  himself  by  accusing  Cosmo 
(who  was  the  first  grand-duke)  of  murdering  Ales- 
sandro's son.  Cosmo,  as  jealous  of  his  power  as 
Charles  V.  was  of  his,  abdicated  in  favor  of  his  son 
Fi-ancesco,  after  causing  the  death  of  his  other  son, 


( 
Introduction.  21 

Garcia,  to  avenge  the  death  of  Cardinal  Giovanni  de' 
Medici,  whom  Garcia  had  assassinated.  Cosmo  the 
First  and  his  son  Francesco,  who  ought  to  have  been 
devoted,  body  and  soul,  to  the  liouse  of  France,  the 
onl}^  power  on  which  they  might  really  have  relied,  made 
themselves  the  lacqueys  of  Charles  V.  and  Philip  II., 
and  were  consequently  the  secret,  base,  and  perfidious 
enemies  of  Catherine  de'  Medici,  one  of  the  glories  of 
their  house. 

Such  were  the  leading  contradictory  and  illogical 
traits,  the  treacher}',  knaver}^  and  black  intrigues  of  a 
single  house,  that  of  the  Medici.  From  this  sketch,  we 
may  judge  of  the  other  princes  of  Italy  and  Europe.  All 
the  envoj's  of  Cosmo  I.  to  the  court  of  France  had,  in 
their  secret  instructions,  an  order  to  poison  Strozzi, 
Catherine's  relation,  when  he  arrived.  Charles  V. 
had  already  assassinated  three  of  the  ambassadors  of 
Francois  I. 

It  was  earl}'  in  the  month  of  October,  1533,  that  the 
Duca  delta  citta  di  Penna  started  from  Florence  for 
Livorno,  accompanied  by  the  sole  heiress  of  Lorenzo 
II.,  namely,  Catherine  de'  Medici.  The  duke  and  the 
Princess  of  Florence,  for  that  was  the  title  b}'  which  the 
young  girl,  then  fourteen  years  of  age,  was  known,  left 
the  city  surrounded  by  a  large  retinue  of  servants, 
officers,  and  secretaries,  preceded  by  armed  men,  and 
followed  by  an  escort  of  cavalrj'.  The  young  princess 
knew  nothing  as  yet  of  what  her  fate  was  to  be,  except 
that  the  pope  was  to  have  an  interview  at  Livorno  with 
the  Duke  Alessandro ;  but  her  uncle,  Filippo  Strozzi, 
ver}^  soon  informed  her  of  the  future  before  her. 

Filippo  Strozzi  had  married  Clarice  de'  Medici,  half- 


22  Introduction, 

sister  on  the  father's  side  of  Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  Dnke 
of  Urbino,  father  of  Catherine  ;  but  this  marriage,  which 
was  brought  about  as  mucli  to  convert  one  of  the  firm- 
est supporters  of  the  popular  party  to  the  cause  of  the 
Medici  as  to  facilitate  the  recall  of  that  family',  then 
banished  from  Florence,  never  shook  the  stern  champion 
from  his  course,  though  he  was  persecuted  bj'  his  own 
party  for  making  it.  In  spite  of  all  apparent  changes 
in  his  conduct  (for  this  alliance  naturalh'  affected  it 
somewhat)  he  remained  faithful  to  the  popular  part}', 
and  declared  himself  openl}'  against  the  Medici  as  soon 
as  he  foresaw  their  intention  to  enslave  Florence.  This 
great  man  even  refused  the  offer  of  a  principality  made 
to  him  by  Leo  X. 

At  the  time  of  which  we  are  now  writing  Filippo 
Strozzi  was  a  victim  to  the  policy  of  the  Medici,  so 
vacillating  in  its  means,  so  fixed  and  inflexible  in  its  ob- 
ject. After  sharing  the  misfortunes  and  the  captivity  of 
Clement  VII.  when  the  latter,  surprised  by  theColonna, 
took  refuge  in  the  Castle  of  Saint-Angelo,  Strozzi 
was  delivered  up  hy  Clement  as  a  hostage  and  taken  to 
Naples.  As  the  pope,  when  he  got  his  liberty,  turned 
savagely  on  his  enemies,  Strozzi  came  ver}'  near  losing 
his  life,  and  was  forced  to  pa}'  an  enormous  sum  to  be 
released  from  a  prison  where  he  was  closely  confined. 
When  he  found  himself  at  libert}'  he  had,  with  an 
instinct  of  kindUness  natural  to  an  honest  man,  the 
simplicit}'  to  present  himself  before  Clement  VII.,  who 
had  perhaps  congratulated  himself  on  being  well  rid  of 
him.  The  pope  had  such  good  cause  to  blush  for  his 
own  conduct  that  he  received  Strozzi  extremely  ill. 

Strozzi  thus  began,  earlj'  in  life,  his  apprenticeship 


I  retrod  nction,  23 

to  the  misfortunes  of  an  honest  man  in  politics,  —  a  man 
whose  conscience  cannot  lend  itself  to  the  capricious- 
ness  of  events  ;  whose  actions  are  acceptable  onl^'  to 
the  virtuous  ;  and  who  is  therefore  persecuted  by  the 
world,  —  b}'  the  people,  for  opposing  their  blind  pas- 
sions ;  by  power  for  opposing  its  usurpations.  The 
life  of  such  great  citizens  is  a  martyrdom,  in  which  they 
are  sustained  onh'  b}'  the  voice  of  their  conscience  and 
an  heroic  sense  of  social  dutv,  which  dictates  their 
course  in  all  things.  There  were  many  such  men  in  the 
republic  of  Florence,  all  as  great  as  Strozzi,  and  as 
able  as  their  adversaries  the  Medici,  though  vanquished 
by  the  superior  craft  and  wiliness  of  the  latter.  What 
could  be  more  worthy  of  admiration  than  the  conduct 
of  the  chief  of  the  Pazzi  at  the  time  of  the  conspiracy 
of  his  house,  when,  his  commerce  being  at  that  time 
enormous,  he  settled  all  his  accounts  with  Asia,  the 
Levant,  and  Europe  before  beginning  that  great  at- 
tempt ;  so  that,  if  it  failed,  his  correspondents  should 
lose  nothing. 

The  histor}'  of  the  establishment  of  the  house  of  the 
Medici  in  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries  is  a  mag:- 
nificent  tale  which  still  remains  to  be  written,  thoujih 
men  of  genius  have  already  put  their  hands  to  it.  It 
is  not  the  history  of  a  republic,  nor  of  a  society,  nor  of 
an\^  special  civilization  ;  it  is  the  history  of  statesmen, 
the  eternal  history  of  Politics,  —  that  of  usurpers,  that 
of  conquerors. 

As  soon  as  Filippo  Strozzi  returned  to  Florence  he 
re-established  the  preceding  form  of  government  and 
ousted  Ippolito  de'  Medici,  another  bastard,  and  the 
very  Alessandro  with  whom,  at   the   later   period   of 


24  Introduction, 

which  we  are  now  writing,  he  was  travelling  to  Livorno. 
Having  effected  this  change  of  government,  he  became 
alarmed  at  the  evident  inconstancy  of  the  people  of 
Florence,  and,  fearing  the  vengeance  of  Clement  VII.,  he 
went  to  Lyon  to  superintend  a  vast  house  of  business 
he  owned  there,  which  corresponded  with  other  banking- 
houses  of  his  own  in  Venice,  Rome,  France,  and  Spain. 
Here  we  find  a  strange  thing.  These  men  who  bore 
the  weight  of  public  affairs  and  of  such  a  struggle  as 
that  with  the  Medici  (not  to  speak  of  contentions  with 
their  own  party)  found  time  and  strength  to  bear 
the  burden  of  a  vast  business  and  all  its  speculations, 
also  of  banks  and  their  complications,  which  the  multi- 
plicity of  coinages  and  their  falsification  rendered  even 
more  difficult  than  it  is  in  our  da}'.  The  name  '-'-  banker  " 
comes  from  the  banc  (Anglice,  bench)  upon  which  the 
banker  sat,  and  on  which  he  rang  the  gold  and  silver 
pieces  to  tr}^  their  quality.  After  a  time  Filippo  found 
in  the  death  of  his  wife,  whom  he  adored,  a  pretext  for 
renewing  his  relations  with  the  Republican  party,  whose 
secret  police  becomes  the  more  terrible  in  all  republics, 
because  every  one  makes  himself  a  spy  in  the  name  of 
a  libert}'  which  justifies  everything. 

Filippo  returned  to  Florence  at  the  ver}'  moment 
when  that  city  was  compelled  to  accept  the  3'oke  of 
Alessandro ;  but  he  had  previousl}'  gone  to  Rome  and 
seen  Pope  Clement  VII.,  whose  affairs  were  now  so 
prosperous  that  his  disposition  toward  Strozzi  was 
much  changed.  In  the  hour  of  triumph  the  Medici 
were  so  much  in  need  of  a  man  like  Filippo  —  were  it 
only  to  smooth  the  return  of  Alessandro  —  that  Clement 
urged  him  to  take  a  seat  at  the  Council  of  the  bastard 


Introduction.  25 

who  was  about  to  oppress  the  cit3' ;  and  Strozzi  con- 
sented to  accept  the  diploma  of  a  senator. 

But,  for  the  last  two  3'ears  and  more,  he  had  seen, 
like  Seneca  and  Burrhus,  the  beginnings  of  tyranny  in 
his  Nero.  He  felt  himself,  at  the  moment  of  which  we 
write,  an  object  of  so  much  distrust  on  the  part  of  the 
people  and  so  suspected  by  the  Medici  whom  he  was 
constantly  resisting,  that  he  was  confident  of  some  ap- 
proaching catastrophe.  Consequently,  as  soon  as  he 
heard  from  Alessandro  of  the  negotiation  for  Cath- 
erine's marriage  with  the  son  of  Frangois  I.,  the  final 
arrangements  for  which  were  to  be  made  at  Livorno, 
where  the  negotiators  had  appointed  to  meet,  he  formed 
the  plan  of  going  to  France,  and  attaching  himself  to 
the  fortunes  of  his  niece,  who  needed  a  guardian. 

Alessandro,  delighted  to  rid  himself  of  a  man  so  un- 
accommodating in  the  affairs  of  Florence,  furthered  a 
plan  which  relieved  him  of  one  murder  at  least,  and 
advised  Strozzi  to  put  himself  at  the  head  of  Catherine's 
household.  In  order  to  dazzle  the  eyes  of  France  the 
Medici  had  selected  a  brilliant  suite  for  her  whom  they 
styled,  very  unwarrantably,  the  Princess  of  Florence, 
and  who  also  went  by  the  name  of  the  little  Duchess 
d'Urbino.  The  cortege,  at  the  head  of  which  rode 
Alessandro,  Catherine,  and  Strozzi,  was  composed  of 
more  than  a  thousand  persons,  not  including  the  escort 
and  servants.  When  the  last  of  it  issued  from  the  gates 
of  Florence  the  head  had  passed  that  first  village  be- 
yond the  city  where  they  now  braid  the  Tuscan  straw 
hats.  It  was  beginning  to  be  rumored  among  the 
people  that  Catherine  was  to  marry  a  son  of  Francois  I. ; 
but  the  rumor  did   not   obtain   much  belief  until   the 


26  Introduction, 

Tuscans  beheld  with  their  own  e3'es  this  triumphal  pro- 
cession from  Florence  to  Livorno. 

Catherine  herself,  judging  hy  all  the  preparations  she 
beheld,  began  to  suspect  that  her  marriage  was  in  ques- 
tion, and  her  uncle  then  revealed  to  her  the  fact  that 
the  first  ambitious  project  of  his  house  had  aborted,  and 
that  the  hand  of  the  dauphin  had  been  refused  to  her. 
Alessandro  still  hoped  tliat  the  Duke  of  Alban}^  would 
succeed  in  changing  this  decision  of  the  king  of  France 
who,  willing  as  he  was  to  bu}-  the  support  of  the 
Medici  in  Italy,  would  only  grant  them  his  second  son, 
the  Due  d'Orleans.  This  petty  blunder  lost  Italy  to 
France,  and  did  not  prevent  Catherine  from  becoming 
queen. 

The  Duke  of  Albany,  son  of  Alexander  Stuart, 
)rother  of  James  III.  king  of  Scotland,  had  married 
Anne  de  la  Tour  de  Boulogne,  sister  of  Madeleine  de  la 
Tour  de  Bologne,  Catherine's  mother ;  he  was  therefore 
her  maternal  uncle.  It  was  through  her  mother  that 
Catherine  was  so  rich  and  alUed  to  so  man}^  great 
families ;  for,  strangely  enough,  her  rival,  Diane  de 
Poitiers,  was  also  her  cousin.  Jean  de  Poitiers,  father 
of  Diane,  was  son  of  Jeanne  de  Boulogne,  aunt  of  the 
Duchess  d'Urbino.  "  Catherine  was  also  a  cousin  of 
Mar}^  Stuai't,  her  daughter-in-law. 

Catherine  now  learned  that  her  dowry  in  mone}'  was 
a  hundred  thousand  ducats.  A  ducat  was  a  gold  piece 
of  the  size  of  an  old  French  louis,  though  less  thick. 
(The  old  louis  was  worth  twentj^-four  francs  —  the 
present  one  is  worth  twent}'.)  The  Comtes  of  Au- 
vergne  and  Lauraguais  were  also  made  a  part  of  the 
dowry,  and  Pope  Clement  added  one  hundred  thousand 


Introduction.  27 

ducats  in  jewels,  precious  stones,  and  other  wedding 
gifts ;  to  which  Alessandro  likewise  contributed  his 
share. 

On  arriving  at  Livorno,  Catherine,  still  so  3'oung, 
must  have  been  flattered  by  the  extreme  magnificence 
displayed^  by  Pope  Clement  (''  her  uncle  in  Notre- 
Dame,"  then  head  of  the  house  of  the  Medici),  in  order 
to  outdo  the  court  of  France.  He  had  already  arrived 
at  Livorno  in  one  of  his  gallej's,  which  was  lined  with 
crimson  satin  fringed  with  gold,  and  covered  with  a 
tent-like  awning  in  cloth  of  gold.  This  galle}',  the 
decoration  of  which  cost  twenty  thousand  ducats,  con- 
tained several  apartments  destined  for  the  bride  of 
Henri  of  France,  all  of  which  were  furnished  with  the 
richest  treasures  of  art  the  Medici  could  collect.  The 
rowers,  magnificently  apparelled,  and  the  crew  were 
under  the  command  of  a  prior  of  the  order  of  the 
Knights  of  Rhodes.  The  household  of  the  pope  were 
in  three  other  galleys.  The  galle3's  of  the  Duke  of  Al- 
bany, anchored  near  those  of  Clement  VII.,  added  to 
the  size  and  dignity  of  the  flotilla. 

Duke  Alessandro  presented  the  ofl3cers  of  Catherine's 
household  to  the  pope,  with  whom  he  had  a  secret  con- 
ference, in  which,  it  would  appear,  he  presented  to  his 
Holiness  Count  Sebastiano  Montecuculi,  who  had  just 
left,  somewhat  abruptly,  the  service  of  Charles  V.  and 
that  of  his  two  generals,  Antonio  di  Leyva  and  Ferdi- 
nando  di  Gonzago.  Was  there  between  the  two  bastards, 
Giulio  and  Alessandro,  a  premeditated  intention  of 
making  the  Due  d'Orleans  dauphin?  What  reward 
was  promised  to  Sebastiano  Montecuculi,  who,  before 
entering  the  service  of  Charles  V.  had  studied  medicine  ? 


28  Introduction. 

Histor}'  is  silent  on  that  point.  We  shall  see  presently 
what  clouds  hang  round  that  fact.  The  obscurit}'  is 
so  great  that,  quite  recentlj^,  grave  and  conscientious 
historians  have  admitted  Montecuculi's  innocence. 

Catherine  then  heard  officially  from  the  pope's  own 
lips  of  the  alhance  reserved  for  her.  The  Duke  of 
Albany  had  been  able  to  do  no  more  than  hold  the 
king  of  P'rance,  and  that  with  difficulty,  to  his  promise 
of  giving  Catherine  the  hand  of  his  second  son,  the  Due 
d'Orleans.  The  pope's  impatience  was  so  great,  and  he 
was  so  afraid  that  his  plans  would  be  thwarted  either  by 
some  intrigue  of  the  emperor,  or  by  the  refusal  of 
France,  or  by  the  grandees  of  the  kingdom  looking 
with  evil  eye  upon  the  marriage,  that  he  gave  orders  to 
embark  at  once,  and  sailed  for  Marseille,  where  he 
arrived  toward  the  end  of  October,  1533. 

Notwithstanding  its  wealth,  the  house  of  the  Medici 
was  eclipsed  on  this  occasion  by  the  court  of  France. 
To  show  the  lengths  to  which  the  Medici  pushed  their 
magnificence,  it  is  enough  to  saj'  that  the  "  dozen  "  put 
into  the  bride's  purse  hy  the  pope  were  twelve  gold 
medals  of  priceless  historical  value,  which  were  then 
unique.  But  Francois  I.,  who  loved  the  display  of  fes- 
tivals, distinguished  himself  on  this  occasion.  The 
wedding  festivities  of  Henri  de  Valois  and  Catherine 
de'  Medici  lasted  thirty-four  da3's. 

It  is  useless  to  repeat  the  details,  which  have  been 
given  in  all  the  histories  of  Provence  and  Marseille,  as 
to  this  celebrated  interview  between  the  Pope  and  the 
king  of  France,  which  was  opened  b}'  a  jest  of  the  Duke 
of  Albany  as  to  the  dutj  of  keeping  fasts,  —  a  jest  men- 
tioned by  Brantome  and  much  enjo^'ed  by  the  court, 
which  shows  the  tone  of  the  manners  of  that  day. 


Introduction.  29 

Many  conjectures  have  been  made  as  to  Catherine's 
barrenness,  which  lasted  ten  3'ears.  Strange  calumnies 
still  rest  upon  this  queen,  all  of  whose  actions  were  fated 
to  be  misjudged.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  the  cause 
was  solely  in  Henri  II.  After  the  difficulty  was  re- 
moved, Catherine  had  ten  children.  The  delay  was,  in 
one  respect,  fortunate  for  France.  If  Henri  II.  had 
had  children  b}^  Diane  de  Poitiers  the  politics  of  the 
kingdom  would  have  been  dangerously  complicated. 
When  the  difficulty  was  removed  the  Duchesse  de  Val- 
entinois  had  reached  the  period  of  a  woman's  second 
youth.  This  matter  alone  will  show  that  the  true  life 
of  Catherine  de'  Medici  is  still  to  be  written,  and  also 
—  as  Napoleon  said  with  profound  wisdom  —  that  the 
histor}^  of  France  should  be  either  in  one  volume  onlj^, 
or  one  thousand. 

Here  is  a  contemporaneous  and  succinct  account  of 
the  meeting  of  Clement  VII.  and  the  king  of  France  : 

"His  Holiness  the  pope,  having  been  conducted  to  the 
palace,  which  was,  as  I  have  said,  prepared  beyond  the  port, 
every  one  retired  to  their  own  quarters  till  the  morrow,  when 
his  Holiness  was  to  make  his  entry ;  the  which  w^as  made 
with  great  sumptuousness  and  magnificence,  he  being  seated 
in  a  chair  carried  on  the  shoulders  of  two  men  and  wearing 
his  pontifical  robes,  but  not  the  tiara.  Pacing  before  him 
was  a  white  hackney,  bearing  the  sacrament  of  the  altar,  — 
the  said  hackney  being  led  by  reins  of  white  silk  held  by 
two  footmen  finely  equipped.  Next  came  all  the  cardinals 
in  their  robes,  on  pontifical  mules,  and  Madame  la  Duchesse 
d*  Urbino  in  great  magnificence,  accompanied  by  a  vast 
number  of  ladies  and  gentlemen,  both  French  and  Italian. 

"  The  Holy  Father  having  arrived  in  the  midst  of  this 
company  at  the  place  appointed  for  his  lodging,  every  one 


30  Introduction. 

retired;  and  all  this,  being  well-ordered,  took  place  without 
disorder  or  tumult.  While  the  pope  was  thus  making  his 
entry,  the  king  crossed  the  water  in  a  frigate  and  went  to 
the  lodging  the  pope  had  just  quitted,  in  order  to  go  the 
next  day  and  make  obeisance  to  the  Holy  Father  as  a  Most 
Christian  king. 

"  The  next  day  the  king  being  prepared  set  forth  for  the 
palace  where  was  the  pope,  accompanied  by  the  princes 
of  the  blood,  such  as  Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Vendomois 
(father  of  the  Vidame  de  Chartres),  the  Comtede  Sainct-Pol, 
Messieurs  de  Montpensier  and  la  Roche-sur-Yon,  the  Due  de 
Nemours  (brother  of  the  Due  de  Savoie)  who  died  in  this 
said  place,  the  Duke  of  Albany,  and  many  others,  whether 
counts,  barons,  or  seigneurs ;  nearest  to  the  king  was  the 
Seigneur  de  Montmorency,  his  Grand-master. 

"  The  king,  being  arrived  at  the  palace,  was  received  by 
the  pope  and  all  the  college  of  cardinals,  assembled  in  con- 
sistory, most  civilly.  This  done,  each  retired  to  the  place 
ordained  for  him,  the  king  taking  with  him  several  car- 
dinals to  feast  them,  —  among  them  Cardinal  de'  Medici, 
nephew  of  the  pope,  a  very  splendid  man  with  a  fine  retinue. 

"  On  the  morrow  those  persons  chosen  by  his  Holiness  and 
by  the  king  began  to  assemble  to  discuss  the  matters  for 
which  the  meeting  was  made.  First,  the  matter  of  the 
Faith  was  treated  of,  and  a  bull  was  put  forth  repressing 
heresy  and  preventing  that  things  come  to  greater  combus- 
tion than  they  now  are. 

"After  this,  was  concluded  the  marriage  of  the  Due 
d'Orl^ans,  second  son  of  the  king,  with  Catherine  de'  Medici, 
Duchesse  d'Urbino,  niece  of  his  Holiness,  under  the  con- 
ditions such,  or  like  to  those,  as  were  proposed  formerly  by 
the  Duke  of  Albany.  The  said  espousals  were  celebrated 
with  great  magnificence,  and  our  Holy  Father  himself 
wedded  the  pair.  The  marriage  thus  consummated,  the 
Holy  Father  held  a  consistory  at  which  he  created  four  car- 
dinals and  devoted  them  to  the  king,  —  to  wit :   Cardinal 


Introduction.  '    31 

Le  Veneur,  formerly  bishop  of  Lisieux  and  grand  almoner ; 
the  Cardinal  de  Boulogne  of  the  family  of  la  Chambre, 
brother  on  the  mother's  side  of  the  Duke  of  Albany ;  the 
Cardinal  de  Chatillon  of  the  house  of  Coligny,  nephew  of 
the  Sire  de  Montmorency,  and  the  Cardinal  de  Givry." 

When  Strozzi  delivered  the  dowry  in  presence  of  the 
court  he  noticed  some  surprise  on  the  part  of  the  French 
seigneurs  ;  they  even  said  aloud  that  it  Was  little  enough 
for  such  a  mesalliance  (what  would  the}^  have  said  in 
these  daj's?).     Cardinal  Ippolito  replied,  sa3'ing  :  — 

''  You  must  be  ill-informed  as  to  the  secrets  of  your 
king.  His  Holiness  has  bound  himself  to  give  to  France 
three  pearls  of  inestimable  value,  namel}' :  Genoa, 
Milan,  and  Naples." 

The  pope  left  Sebastiano  Montecuculi  to  present  him- 
self to  the  court  of  France,  to  which  the  count  offered 
his  services,  complaining  of  his  treatment  b}'  Antonio 
di  Leyva  and  Ferdinando  di  Gonzago,  for  which  reason 
his  services  were  accepted.  Montecuculi  was  not  made 
a  part  of  Catherine's  household,  which  was  whollj'  com- 
posed of  French  men  and  women,  for,  by  a  law  of  the 
monarchy,  the  execution  of  which  the  pope  saw  with 
great  satisfaction,  Catherine  was  naturalized  bj'  letters- 
patent  as  a  Frenchwoman  before  the  marriage.  Monte- 
cuculi was  appointed  in  the  first  instance  to  the  house- 
hold of  the  queen,  the  sister  of  Charles  V.  After  a 
while  he  passed  into  the  service  of  the  dauphin  as  cup- 
bearer. 

The  new  Duchesse  d'Orleans  soon  found  herself  a 
nullity  at  the  court  of  Francois  I.  Her  young  husband 
was  in  love  with  Diane  de  Poitiers,  who  certainh',  in  the 
matter  of  birth,  could  rival  Catherine,  and  was  far  more 


32  Introduction. 

t)f  a  great  lady  than  the  little  Florentine.  The  daugh- 
ter of  the  Medici  was  also  outdone  by  Queen  Eleonore, 
sister  of  Charles  V.,  and  by  Madame  d'Etampes.  whose 
marriage  with  tlie  head  of  the  house  of  Brosse  made 
her  one  of  tlie  most  powerful  and  best  titled  women  in 
France.  Catherine's  aunt  the  Duchess  of  Albany,  the 
Queen  of  Navarre,  the  Duchesse  de  Guise,  the  Duchesse 
de  Vendome,  Madame  la  Connetable  de  Montmorency, 
and  other  women  of  like  importance,  eclipsed  by  birth 
and  b}^  their  riglits,  as  well  as  by  their  power  at  the 
most  sumptuous  court  of  France  (not  excepting  that 
of  Louis  XIV.),  the  daughter  of  the  Florentine  grocers, 
who  was  richer  and  more  illustrious  through  the  house 
of  the  Tour  de  Boulogne  than  by  her  own  family  of 
Medici. 

The  position  of  his  niece  was  so  bad  and  difficult  that 
the  republican  Filippo  Strozzi,  wholl}^  incapable  of 
guiding  her  in  the  midst  of  such  conflicting  interests, 
left  her  after  the  first  year,  being  recalled  to  Ital}'  hy 
the  death  of  Clement  VII.  Catherine's  conduct,  when 
w^e  remember  that  she  was  scarcely  fifteen  years  old, 
was  a  model  of  prudence.  She  attached  herself  closely 
to  the  king,  her  father-in-law ;  she  left  him  as  little  as 
she  could,  following  him  on  horseback  both  in  hunting 
and  in  war.  Her  idolatrj'  for  FranQois  I.  saved  the 
house  of  the  Medici  from  all  suspicion  when  the  dauphin 
was  poisoned.  Catherine  was  then,  and  so  was  her 
husband,  at  the  headquarters  of  the  king  in  Provence ; 
for  Charles  V.  had  speedil}'  invaded  France,  and  the 
late  scene  of  the  marriage  festivities  had  become  the 
theatre  of  a  cruel  war. 

At  the  moment  when  Charles  V.  was  put  to  flight, 


Introduction.  33 

leaving  the  bones  of  his  army  in  Provence,  the  dauphin 
was  returning  to  L3on  by  the  Rhone.  He  stopped  to 
sleep  at  Tournon,  and,  by  way  of  pastime,  practised 
some  violent  physical  exercises,  —  which  were  nearly 
all  the  education  his  brother  and  he,  in  consequence  of 
their  detention  as  hostages,  had  ever  received.  The 
prince  had  the  imprudence  —  it  being  the  month  of 
August,  and  the  weather  very  hot  —  to  ask  for  a  glass 
of  water,  which  Montecuculi,  as  his  cup-bearer,  gave  to 
him,  with  ice  in  it.  The  dauphin  died  almost  immedi- 
ately. Franqois  I.  adored  his  son.  The  dauphin  was, 
according  to  all  accounts,  a  charming  young  man.  His 
father,  in  despair,  gave  the  utmost  publicity  to  the 
proceedings  against  Montecuculi,  which  he  placed  in 
the  hands  of  the  most  able  magistrates  of  that  daj'. 
The  count,  after  heroicall}^  enduring  the  first  tortures 
without  confessing  anything,  finally  made  admissions 
by  which  he  implicated  Charles  V.  and  his  two  generals, 
Antonio  di  Leyva  and  Ferdinando  di  Gonzago.  No 
affair  was  ever  more  solemnly'  debated.  Here  is  what 
the  king  did,  in  the  woi'ds  of  an  ocular  witness  :  — 

"  The  king  called  an  assembly  at  Lyon  of  all  the  princes 
of  his  blood,  all  the  knights  of  his  order,  and  other  great 
personages  of  the  kingdom;  also  the  legate  and  papal 
nuncio,  the  cardinals  who  were  at  his  court,  together  with 
the  ambassadors  of  England,  Scotland,  Portugal,  Venice, 
Ferrara,  and  others ;  also  all  the  princes  and  noble  stran- 
gers, both  Italian  and  German,  who  were  then  residing  at 
his  court  in  great  numbers.  These  all  being  assembled, 
he  caused  to  be  read  to  them,  in  presence  of  each  other, 
from  beginning  to  end,  the  trial  of  the  unhappy  man  who 
poisoned  Monseigneur  the  late  dauphin,  —  with  all  the  inter- 

3 


34  Introduction, 

rogatories,  confessions,  confrontings,  and  other  ceremonies 
usual  in  criminal  trials ;  he,  the  king,  not  being  willing  thai 
the  sentence  should  be  executed  until  all  present  had  giveu 
their  opinion  on  this  heinous  and  miserable  case." 

The  fidelit}',  devotion,  and  cautious  skill  of  the  Comte 
de  Montecuculi  may  seem  extraordinary  in  our  time, 
when  all  the  world,  even  ministers  of  State,  tell  ever}-- 
Ihing  about  the  least  little  event  with  which  they 
have  to  do ;  but  in  those  days  princes  could  find  de- 
voted servants,  or  knew  how  to  choose  them.  Monar- 
chical Moreys  existed  because  in  those  days  there 
was  faith.  Never  ask  devotion  of  self-interest^  be- 
cause such  interest  may  change ;  but  expect  all  from 
sentiments,  religious  faith,  monarchical  faith,  patriotic 
faith.  Those  three  beliefs  produced  such  men  as  the 
Berthereaus  of  Geneva,  the  S^'dneys  and  Straffords 
of  England,  the  murderers  of  Thomas  a  Becket,  the 
Jacques  Coeurs,  the  Jeanne  d'Arcs,  the  Richelieus, 
Dantons,  Bonchamps,  Talmonts,  and  also  the  Clem- 
ents, Chabots,  and  others. 

The  dauphin  was  poisoned  in  the  same  manner,  and 
possiblj^  bj'  the  same  drug  which  afterwards  served 
Madame  under  Louis  XIV.  Pope  Clement  VII.  had 
been  dead  two  years ;  Duke  Alessandro,  plunged 
in  debauchery,  seemed  to  have  no  interest  in  the  eleva- 
tion of  the  Due  d'Orleans ;  Catherine,  then  seventeen, 
and  full  of  admiration  for  her  father-in-law,  was  with 
him  at  the  time  ;  Charles  V.  alone  appeared  to  have  an 
interest  in  this  death,  for  Fran9ois  I.  was  negotiating 
for  his  son  an  alliance  which  would  assuredly  have 
aggrandized  France.  The  count's  confession  was 
therefore  very  skilfully'  based  on  the  passions  and  poli- 


Introduction.  35 

tics  of  the  moment ;  Charles  V.  was  then  frying  from 
France,  leaving  his  armies  buried  in  Provence  with  his 
happiness,  his  reputation,  and  his  hopes  of  dominion. 
It  is  to  be  remarked  that  if  torture  had  forced  admis- 
sions from  an  innocent  man,  Francois  I.  gave  Monte- 
cuculi  full  liberty  to  speak  in  presence  of  an  imposing 
assembly,  and  before  persons  in  whose  eyes  innocence 
had  some  chance  to  triumph.  The  king,  who  wanted 
the  truth,  sought  it  in  good  faith. 

In  spite  of  her  now  brilHant  future,  Catherine's  sit- 
uation at  court  was  not  changed  by  the  death  of  the 
dauphin.  Her  barrenness  gave  reason  to  fear  a  divorce 
in  case  her  husband  should  ascend  the  throne.  The 
dauphin  was  under  the  spell  of  Diane  de  Poitiers, 
who  assumed  to  rival  Madame  d'Etampes,  the  king's 
mistress.  Catherine  redoubled  in  care  and  cajolery 
of  her  father-in-law,  being  well  aware  that  her  sole 
support  was  in  him.  The  first  ten  years  of  Catherine's 
married  life  were  years  of  ever-renewed  grief,  caused 
by  the  failure,  one  by  one,  of  her  hopes  of  pregnancy, 
and  the  vexations  of  her  rivalry  with  Diane.  Imagine 
what  must  have  been  the  life  of  a  young  princess, 
watched  by  a  jealous  mistress  who  was  supported  by  a 
powerful  part}',  —  the  Catholic  party,  —  and  by  the  two 
powerful  alUances  Diane  had  made  in  marrying  one 
daughter  to  Robert  de  la  Mark,  Due  de  Bouillon,  Prince 
of  Sedan,  and  the  other  to  Claude  de  Lorraine,  Due 
d'Aumale. 

Catherine,  helpless  between  the  part}'  of  Madame 
d'Etampes  and  the  party  of  the  Senechale  (such  was 
Diane's  title  during  the  reign  of  Francois  I.),  which 
divided  the  court  and  politics  into  factions  for  these  mor- 


36  Introduction. 

tal  enemies,  endeavored  to  make  herself  the  friend  of 
both  Diane  de  Foitieis  and  Madame  d'fitampes.  She, 
who  was  destined  to  become  so  great  a  queen,  played 
the  part  of  a  servant.  Thus  she  served  her  apprentice- 
ship in  that  double-faced  policy  which  was  ever  the 
secret  motor  of  her  life.  Later,  the  queen  was  to 
stand  between  Catholics  and  Calvinists,  just  as  the 
woman  had  stood  for  ten  3xars  between  Madame 
d'Etampes  and  Madame  de  Poitiers.  She  studied  the 
contradictions  of  French  politics ;  she  saw  Francois  I. 
sustaining  Calvin  and  the  Lutherans  in  order  to  em- 
barrass Charles  V.,  and  then,  after  secretl}'  and  pa- 
tiently protecting  the  Reformation  in  Germany,  and 
tolerating  the  residence  of  Calvin  at  the  court  of 
Navarre,  he  suddenly  turned  against  it  with  exces- 
sive rigor.  Catherine  beheld  on  the  one  hand  the 
court,  and  the  women  of  the  court,  playing  with  the 
fire  of  heres}',  and  on  the  other,  Diane  at  the  head 
of  the  Catholic  part}'  with  the  Guises,  solely  because 
the  Duchesse  d'Etampes  supported  Calvin  and  the 
Protestants. 

Such  was  the  political  education  of  this  queen,  who 
saw  in  the  cabinet  of  the  king  of  France  the  same 
errors  committed  as  in  the  house  of  the  Medici.  The 
dauphin  opposed  his  father  in  everything ;  he  was  a 
bad  son.  He  forgot  the  cruel  but  most  vital  maxim  of 
royalt}',  namely,  that  thrones  need  solidarity ;  and  that 
a  son  who  creates  opposition  during  the  lifetime  of  his 
father  must  follow  that  father's  policj'  when  he  mounts 
the  throne.  Spinosa,  who  was  as  great  a  statesman  as 
he  was  a  philosopher,  said  —  in  the  case  of  one  king 
succeeding  another  b}'  insurrection  or  crime, — 


\w 


Introduction.  37 

<*  K  the  new  king  desires  to  secure  the  safety  of  his 
throne  and  of  his  own  life  he  must  show  such  ardor  in 
venging  the  death  of  his  predecessor  that  no  one  shall  feel 
a  desire  to  commit  the  same  crime.  But  to  avenge  it  wor- 
thily it  is  not  enough  to  shed  the  blood  of  his  subjects,  he 
must  approve  the  axioms  of  the  king  he  replaces,  and  take 

»the  same  course  in  governing." 
It  was  the  application  of  this  maxim  which  gave 
Florence  to  the  Medici.  Cosmo  I.  caused  to  be  assas- 
sinated at  Venice,  after  eleven  years'  sway,  the  Floren- 
tine Brutus,  and,  as  we  have  ah'eadj'  said,  persecuted 
the  Strozzi.  It  was  forgetfulness  of  this  maxim  which 
ruined  Louis  XVI.  That  king  was  false  to  every  prin- 
ciple of  ro3'al  government  when  he  re-established  the 
parliaments  suppressed  by  his  grandfather.  Louis  XV. 
saw  the  matter  clearly.  The  parliaments,  and  notably 
that  of  Paris,  counted  for  full}'  half  in  the  troubles  which 
necessitated  the  convocation  of  the  States-general.  The 
fault  of  Louis  XV.  was,  that  in  breaking  down  that 
barrier  which  separated  the  throne  from  the  people  he 
did  not  erect  a  stronger ;  in  other  words,  that  he  did 
not  substitute  for  parliament  a  strong  constitution  of 
the  provinces.  There  lay  the  remed}*  for  the  evils  of 
the  monarch}' ;  thence  should  have  come  the  voting  on 
taxes,  the  regulation  of  them,  and  a  slow  approval  of 

-—reforms  that  were  necessary  to  the  system  of  monarchy. 

"  The  first  act  of  Henry  II.  was  to  give  his  confidence 
to  the  Connetable  de  Montmorenc}',  whom  his  father 
had  enjoined  him  to  leave  in  disgrace.  The  Connetable 
do  Montmorency  was,  with  Diane  de  Poitiers,  to  whom 
he  was  closely  bound,  the  master  of  the  State.  Cath- 
erine was  therefore  less  happy  and  less  powerful  after 


38  Introduction, 

she  became  queen  of  France  than  while  she  was  dau- 
phiness.  From  1 543  she  had  a  child  ever}'  year  for  ten 
years,  and  was  occupied  with  maternal  cares  during  the 
period  covered  by  the  last  three  j'ears  of  the  reign  of 
Francois  I.  and  nearly  the  whole  of  the  reign  of  Henri  II. 
We  may  see  in  this  recurring  fecundity  the  influence  of 
a  rival,  who  was  able  thus  to  rid  herself  of  the  legitimate 
wife,  —  a  barbarity  of  feminine  policy  which  must  have 
been  one  of  Catherine's  grievances  against  Diane. 

Thus  set  aside  from  public  life,  this  superior  woman 
passed  her  time  in  observing  the  self-interests  of  the 
court  people  and  of  the  various  parties  which  were 
formed  about  her.  All  the  Italians  who  had  followed 
her  were  objects  of  violent  suspicion.  After  the 
execution  of  Montecuculi  the  Connetable  de  Mont- 
morenc3%  Diane,  and  many  of  the  keenest  politicians 
of  the  court  were  filled  with  suspicion  of  the  Medici ; 
though  Fran9ois  I.  alwa3's  repelled  it.  Consequently, 
the  Gondi,  Strozzi,  Ruggieri,  Sardini,  etc.,  —  in  short, 
all  those  who  were  called  distinctively  "the  Italians,'' — 
were  compelled  to  emplo}"  great  resources  of  mind, 
shrewd  policy,  and  courage,  to  maintain  themselves  at 
court  against  the  weight  of  disfavor  which  pressed  upon 
them. 

During  her  husband's  reign  Catherine's  amiability 
to  Diane  de  Poitiers  went  to  such  lengths  that  intelli- 
gent persons  must  regard  it  as  proof  of  that  profound 
dissimulation  which  men,  events,  and  the  conduct  of 
Henri  II.  compelled  Catherine  de'  Medici  to  emploj'. 
But  they  go  too  far  when  they  declare  that  she  never 
claimed  her  rights  as  wife  and  queen.  In  the  first 
place,  the  sense  of  dignity  which  Catherme  possessed 


Introduction,  39 

in  the  highest  degree  forbade  her  claiming  what  his- 
torians call  her  rights  as  a  wife.  The  ten  children  of 
the  marriage  explain  Henri's  conduct ;  and  his  wife's 
maternal  occupations  left  him  free  to  pass  his  time  with 
Diane  de  Poitiers.  But  the  king  was  never  lacking 
in  anything  that  was  due  to  himself;  and  he  gave 
Catherine  an  '•'entry'*  into  Paris,  to  be  crowned  as 
queen,  which  was  worthy  of  all  such  pageants  that  had 
ever  taken  place.  The  archives  of  the  Parhament,  and 
those  of  the  Cour  des  Comptes,  show  that  those  two 
great  bodies  went  to  meet  her  outside  of  Paris  as  far 
as  Saint  Lazare.  Here  is  an  extract  from  du  Tillet's 
account  of  it :  — 

"  A  platform  had  been  erected  at  Saint-Lazare,  on  which 
was  a  throne  (du  Tillet  calls  it  a  chair  de  parement) .  Cath- 
erine took  her  seat  upon  it,  wearing  a  surcoat,  or  species  of 
ermine  short-cloak  covered  with  precious  stones,  a  bodice 
beneath  it  with  the  royal  mantle,  and  on  her  head  a  crown 
enriched  with  pearls  and  diamonds,  and  held  in  place  by  the 
Marechale  de  la  Mark,  her  lady  of  honor.  Around  her  stood 
the  princes  of  the  blood,  and  other  princes  and  seigneurs, 
richly  apparelled,  also  the  chancellor  of  France  in  a  robe  of 
gold  damask  on  a  background  of  crimson-red.  Before  the 
queen,  and  on  the  same  platform,  were  seated,  in  two  rows, 
twelve  duchesses  or  countesses,  wearing  ermine  surcoats, 
bodices,  robes,  and  circlets,- — that  is  to  say,  the  coronets 
of  duchesses  and  countesses.  These  were  the  Duchesses 
d'Estouteville,  Montpensier  (elder  and  younger)  ;  the  Prin- 
cesses de  la  Roche-sur-Yon;  the  Duchesses  de  Guise,  de  Niver- 
nois,  d'Aumale,  de  Valentinois  (Diane  de  Poitiers),  Mademoi- 
selle la  batarde  legitimee  de  France  (the  title  of  the  king's 
daughter,  Diane,  who  was  Duchesse  de  Castro-Farnese  and 
afterwards  Duchesse  de  Montmorency-Damville),  Madame 
la  Connetable,  and  Mademoiselle  de  Nemours ;  without  men- 


40  Introduction. 

tioning  other  demoiselles  who  were  not  seated.  The  four 
presidents  of  the  courts  of  justice,  wearing  their  caps,  several 
other  members  of  the  court,  and  the  clerk  du  Tillet,  mounted 
the  platform,  made  reverent  bows,  and  the  chief  judge,  Lizet, 
kneeling  down,  harangued  the  queen.  The  chancellor  then 
knelt  down  and  answered.  The  queen  made  her  entry  at 
half-past  three  o'clock  in  an  open  litter,  having  Madame 
Marguerite  de  France  sitting  opposite  to  her,  and  on  either 
side  of  the  litter  the  Cardinals  of  Amboise,  Chatillon. 
Boulogne,  and  de  Lenoncourt  in  their  episcopal  robes.  She 
left  her  litter  at  the  church  of  Notre-Dame,  where  she  was 
received  by  the  clergy.  After  offering  her  prayer  she  was 
conducted  by  the  rue  de  la  Calandre  to  the  palace,  where 
the  royal  supper  was  served  in  the  great  hall.  She  there 
appeared,  seated  at  the  middle  of  the  marble  table,  beneath 
a  velvet  dais  strewn  with  golden  fleur-de-lis.'* 

We  may  here  put  an  end  to  one  of  those  popular 
beliefs  which  are  repeated  by  many  writers  from 
Sauval  down.  It  has  been  said  that  Henri  II.  pushed 
his  neglect  of  the  proprieties  so  far  as  to  put  the 
initials  of  his  mistress  on  the  buildings  which  Catherine 
advised  him  to  continue  or  to  begin  with  so  much  mag- 
nificence. But  the  double  monogram  which  can  be 
seen  at  the  Louvre  offers  a  daily  denial  to  those  who 
are  so  little  clear-sighted  as  to  believe  in  sill}'  nonsense 
which  gratuitous!}'  insults  our  kings  and  queens.  The 
H  of  Henri  and  the  two  C's  of  Catherine  which  back 
it,  appear  to  represent  the  two  D's  of  Diane.  The 
coincidence  may  have  pleased  Henri  II.,  but  it  is  none 
the  less  true  that  the  roj'al  monogram  contained  ofti- 
cially  the  initial  of  the  king  and  that  of  the  queen. 
This  is  so  true  that  the  monogram  can  still  be  seen 
on  the  column  of  the  Halle  au  Ble,  which  was  built  by 


I 


Catherine  alone.  It  can  also  be  seen  in  the  crypt  of 
Saint-Denis,  on  the  tomb  which  Catherine  erected  for 
herself  in  her  lifetime  beside  that  of  Henri  II.,  where 
her  figure  is  modelled  from  nature  by  the  sculptor  to 
whom  she  sat  for  it. 

On  a  solemn  occasion,  when  he  was  starting,  March 
25,  1552,  for  his  expedition  into  German}^,  Henri  II. 
declared  Catherine  regent  during  his  absence,  and  also 
in  case  of  his  death.  Catherine's  most  cruel  enemy, 
the  author  of  ''  Marvellous  Discourses  on  Catherine 
the  Second's  Behavior  "  admits  that  she  carried  on  the 
government  with  universal  approval  and  that  the  king 
was  satisfied  with  her  administration.  Henri  received 
both  mone}"  and  men  at  the  time  he  wanted  them  ;  and 
finally,  after  the  fatal  da}'  of  Saint-Quentin,  Catherine 
obtained  considerable  sums  of  mone}'  from  the  people 
of  Paris,  which  she  sent  to  Compiegne,  where  the  king 
then  was. 

In  politics,  Catherine  made  immense  efforts  to  ob- 
tain a  little  influence.  She  was  clever  enough  to  bring 
the  Connetable  de  Montmorency,  all-powerful  under 
Henri  II.,  to  her  interests.  We  all  know  the  terrible 
answer  that  the  king  made,  on  being  harassed  by 
Montmorenc\'  in  her  favor.  This  answer  was  the  re- 
sult of  an  attempt  by  Catherine  to  give  the  king  good 
advice,  in  the  few  moments  she  was  ever  alone  with 
him,  when  she  explained  the  Florentine  policy  of  pit- 
ting the  grandees  of  the  kingdom  one  against  another 
and  establishing  the  royal  authority  on  their  ruins. 
But  Henri  II.,  who  saw  things  only  through  the  eyes 
of  Diane  and  the  Connetable,  was  a  trul}'  feudal  king 
and  the  friend  of  all  the  great  families  of  his  kingdom. 


\ 


42  Litroduction. 

After  the  futile  attempt  of  the  Connetable  in  her 
favor,  which  must  have  been  made  in  the  year  1556, 
Catherine  began  to  cajole  the  Guises  for  the  purpose  of 
detaching  them  from  Diane  and  opposing  them  to  the 
Connetable.  Unfortunately,  Diane  and  Montmorency 
were  as  vehement  against  the  Protestants  as  the  Guises. 
There  was  therefore  not  the  same  animosity  in  their 
struggle  as  there  might  have  been  had  the  religious 
question  entered  it.  Moreover,  Diane  boldly  entered 
the  lists  against  the  queen's  project  by  coquetting  with 
the  Guises  and  giving  her  daughter  to  the  Due 
d'Aumale.  She  even  went  so  far  that  certain  authors 
declared  she  gave  more  than  mere  good-will  to  the 
gallant  Cardinal  de  Lorraine ;  and  the  lampooners  of 
the  time  made  the  following  quatrain  on  Henri  II : 

"  Sire,  if  you  're  weak  and  let  your  will  relax 
Till  Diane  and  Lorraine  do  govern  you, 
Pound,  knead  and  mould,  re-melt  and  model  you, 
Sire,  you  are  nothing  —  nothing  else  than  wax." 

It  is  impossible  to  regard  as  sincere  the  signs  of 
grief  and  the  ostentation  of  mourning  which  Catherine 
showed  on  the  death  of  Henri  II.  The  fact  that  the 
king  was  attached  by  an  unalterable  passion  to  Diane 
de  Poitiers  naturall}'  made  Catherine  play  the  part  of 
a  neglected  wife  who  adores  her  husband ;  but,  like  all 
women  who  act  by  their  head,  she  persisted  in  this  dis- 
simulation and  never  ceased  to  speak  tenderly  of 
Henri  II.  In  like  manner  Diane,  as  we  know,  wore 
mourning  all  her  life  for  her  husband  the  Senechal  de 
Breze.  Her  colors  were  black  and  white,  and  the 
king  was  wearing  them  at  the  tournament  when  he  was 


Introduction,  43 


killed.  Catherine,  no  doubt  in  imitation  of  her  rival, 
wore  mourning  for  Henri  II.  for  the  rest  of  her  life. 
She  showed  a  consummate  perfidy  toward  Diane  de 
Poitiers,  to  which  historians  have  not  given  due  atten- 
tion. At  the  king's  death  the  Duchesse  de  Valentinois 
was  completel}^  disgraced  and  shamefully  abandoned 
by  the  Connetable,  a  man  who  was  always  below  his 
reputation.  Diane  offered  her  estate  and  chdteau  of  > 
Chenonceaux  to  the  queen.  Catherine  then  said,  in  y 
presence  of  witnesses  :  —  / 

''  I   can  never  forget  that  she  made  the  happiness 
of  my  dear  Henri.     I  am  ashamed  to  accept  her  gift ;  \ 
I  wish  to  give  her  a  domain  in  place  of  it,  and  I  shall 
offer  her  that  of  Chaumont-sur-Loire.'' 

Accordingly,  the  deed  of  exchange  was  signed  at 
Blois  in  1559.  Diane,  whose  sons-in-law  were  the  Due 
d'Aumale  and  the  Due  de  Bouillon  (then  a  sovereign 
prince),  kept  her  wealth,  and  died  in  1566  aged  sixty-six. 
She  was  therefore  nineteen  years  older  than  Henri  IT. 
These  dates,  taken  from  her  epitaph  which  was  copied 
from  her  tomb  by  the  historian  who  concerned  himself 
so  much  about  her  at  the  close  of  the  last  century, 
clear  up  quite  a  number  of  historical  difficulties.  Some 
historians  have  declared  she  was  forty,  others  that  she 
was  sixteen  at  the  time  of  her  father's  condemnation  in 
1523  ;  in  point  of  fact  she  was  then  twenty -four.  After 
reading  everything  for  and  against  her  conduct  towards 
Fran9ois  I.  we  are  unable  to  affirm  or  to  deny  anything. 
This  is  one  of  the  passages  of  history  that  will  ever 
remain  obscure.  We  may  see  by  what  happens  in  our 
own  day  how  history  is  falsified  at  the  yery  moment 
when  events  happen. 


44  Introduction, 

Catlicrinc,  who  had  founded  great  hopes  on  the  age 
of  her  rival,  tried  more  than  once  to  overthrow  her.  It 
was  a  dumb,  underliand,  terrible  struggle.  The  day 
came  when  Catherine  believed  herself  for  a  moment  on 
the  verge  of  success.  In  1554,  Diane,  who  w^as  ill, 
begged  the  king  to  go  to  Saint-Germain  and  leave  her 
for  a  short  time  until  she  recovered.  This  stately 
coquette  did  not  choose  to  be  seen  in  the  midst  of 
medical  appliances  and  without  the  splendors  of  ap- 
parel. Catherine  arranged,  as  a  welcome  to  her  hus- 
band, a  magnificent  ballet,  in  which  six  beautiful  young 
girls  were  to  recite  a  poem  in  his  honor.  She  chose 
for  this  function  Miss  Fleming,  a  relation  of  her  uncle 
the  Duke  of  Alban}^,  the  handsomest  young  woman, 
some  say,  that  was  ever  seen,  white  and  ver^-  fair; 
also  one  of  her  own  relations,  Clarice  Strozzi,  a  mag- 
nificent Italian  with  superb  black  hair,  and  hands  that 
were  of  rare  beauty ;  Miss  Lewiston,  maid  of  honor 
to  Mary  Stuart;  Mary  Stuart  herself;  Madame  Eliza- 
beth of  France  (who  was  afterwards  that  unfortunate 
Queen  of  Spain)  ;  and  Madame  Claude.  Elizabeth  and 
Claude  were  eight  and  nine  years  old,  Marj'  Stuart 
twelve ;  evidently  the  queen  intended  to  bring  forward 
Miss  Fleming  and  Clarice  Strozzi  and  present  them 
without  rivals  to  the  king.  The  king  fell  in  love  wMth 
Miss  Fleming,  by  whom  he  had  a  natural  son,  Henri 
de  Valois,  Comte  d'Angoulerae,  grand-prior  of  France. 
But  the  power  and  influence  of  Diane  were  not  shaken. 
Like  Madame  de  Pompadour  with  Louis  XV.,  the 
Duchesse  de  Valentinois  forgave  all.  But  what  sort  of 
love  did  this  attempt  show  in  Catherine?  Was  it  love 
to  her  husband  or  love  of  power?     Women  may  decide. 


Introduction.  45 

A  great  deal  is  said  in  these  days  of  the  license  of  the 
press ;  but  it  is  difficult  to  imagine  the  lengths  to  which 
it  went  when  printing  was  first  invented.  We  know 
that  Aretino,  the  Voltaire  of  his  time,  made  kings  and 
emperors  tremble,  more  especially  Charles  V. ;  but  the 
world  does  not  know  so  well  the  audacity  and  license  of 
pamphlets.  The  chateau  de  Chenonceaux,  which  we 
have  just  mentioned,  was  given  to  Diane,  or  rather  not 
given,  she  was  implored  to  accept  it  to  make  her  forget 
one  of  the  most  horrible  publications  ever  levelled 
asainst  a  woman,  and  which  shows  the  violence  of  the 
warfare  between  herself  and  Madame  d'Etampes.  In 
1537,  when  she  was  thirty-eight  years  of  age,  a  rhyme- 
ster of  Champagne  named  Jean  Votlte,  published  a 
collection  of  Latin  verses  in  which  were  three  epigrams 
upon  her.  It  is  to  be  supposed  that  the  poet  was  sure 
of  protection  in  high  places,  for  the  pamphlet  has  a  pre- 
face in  praise  of  itself,  signed  by  Salmon  Macrin,  first 
valet-de-chambre  to  the  king.  Only  one  passage  is 
quotable  from  these  epigrams,  which  are  entitled :    In 

PiCTAVIAM,  ANAM  AULIGAM. 

"  A  painted  trap  catches  no  game,'*  sa3's  the  ^oet. 
after  telling  Diane  that  she  painted  her  face  and  bought 
her  teeth  and  her  hair.  "  You  may  buy  all  that  super- 
ficially makes  a  woman,  but  you  can't  buy  that  your 
lover  wants ;  for  he  wants  life,  and  you  are  dead." 

This  collection,  printed  b}'  Simon  de  Colines,  is  dedi- 
cated to  a  bishop  !  —  to  Fran9ois  Bohier,  the  brother  of 
the  man  who,  to  save  his  credit  at  court  and  redeem  his 
offence,  offered  to  Diane,  on  the  accession  of  Henry  II., 
the  chateau  de  Chenonceaux,  built  by  his  father,  Thomas 
Bohier,  a  councillor  of  state  under  four  kings  :  Louis  XL, 


46  Introduction. 

Charles  VIII.,  Louis  XII.,  and  Francois  I.  What 
were  the  pamphlets  published  against  Madame  de  Pom- 
padour and  against  Marie-Antoinette  compared  to  these 
verses,  which  might  have  been  written  bj'  Martial? 
Voute  must  have  made  a  bad  end.  The  estate  and 
chateau  cost  Diane  nothing  more  than  the  forgiveness 
enjoined  by  the  gospel.  After  all,  the  penalties  in- 
flicted on  the  press,  though  not  decreed  hy  juries,  were 
somewhat  more  severe  than  those  of  to-dav. 
7  The  queens  of  France,  on  becoming  widows,  were 
/  required  to  remain  in  the  king's  chamber  forty  days 

Ij  i     without  other  light  than  that  of  wax  tapers  ;  they  did  not 
I      leave  the  room  until  after  the  burial  of  the  king.     This 

1 1 1  inviolable  custom  was  a  great  annoyance  to  Catherine, 
\\  who  feared  cabals  ;  and,  by  chance,  she  found  a  means 
^^  to  evade  it,  thus:  Cardinal  de  Lorraine,  leaving,  very 
earl}'  in  the  morning,  the  house  of  the  helle  Romaine^  a 
celebrated  courtesan  of  the  period,  who  lived  in  the  rue 
Culture-Sainte-Catherine,  was  set  upon  and  maltreated 
by  a  part}'  of  libertines.  ^'  On  which  his  holiness,  being 
much  astonished  "  (says  Henri  Estienne),  ''  gave  out  that 
the  Beretics  were  preparing  ambushes  against  him." 
The  court  at  once  removed  from  Paris  to  Saint-Ger- 
main, and  the  queen-mother,  declaring  that  she  would 
not  abandon  the  king  her  son,  went  with  him. 

The  accession  of  Francois  II.,  the  period  at  which 
Catherine  confidently  believed  she  could  get  possession 
of  the  regal  power,  was  a  moment  of  cruel  disappoint- 
ment, after  the  twent3'-six  years  of  miser}'  she  had  lived 
through  at  the  court  of  France.  The  Guises  laid  hands 
on  power  with  incredible  audacity.  The  Due  de  Guise 
was  placed  in  command  of  the  army ;  the  Connetable 


Introduction.  47 


was  dismissed  ;  the  cardinal  took  charge  of  the  treasury 
and  the  clergy. 

Catherine  now  began  her  political  career  by  a  drama 
which,  though  it  did  not  have  the  dreadful  fame  of 
those  of  later  3'ears,  was,  nevertheless,  most  horrible ; 
and  it  must,  undoubted!}',  have  accustomed  her  to  the 
terrible  after  emotions  of  her  life.  While  appearing  to  be 
in  harmony  with  the  Guises,  she  endeavored  to  pave  the 
waj'  for  her  ultimate  triumph  b}'  seeking  a  support  in  the 
house  of  Bourbon,  and  the  means  she  took  were  as  fol- 
lows :  AVhether  it  was  that  (before  the  death  of  Henri  IL), 
and  after  fruitlessly  attempting  violent  measures,  she 
wished  to  awaken  jealousy  in  order  to  bring  the  king 
back  to  her  ;  or  whether  as  she  approached  middle-age  it 
seemed  to  her  cruel  that  she  had  never  known  love,  cer- 
tain it  is  that  she  showed  a  strong  interest  in  a  seigneur 
of  the  royal  blood,  Francois  de  Vendome,  son  of  Louis  de 
Vetidome  (the  house  from  which  that  of  the  Bourbons 
sprang),  and  Vidame  de  Chartres,  the  name  under 
which  he  is  known  in  history.  The  secret  hatred  which 
Catherine  bore  to  Diane  was  revealed  in  man}'  ways,  to 
which  historians,  preoccupied  b}"  political  interests,  have 
paid  no  attention.  Catherine's  attachment  to  the 
vidame  proceeded  from  the  fact  that  the  young  man  had 
offered  an  insult  to  the  favorite.  Diane's  greatest  am- 
bition was  for  the  honor  of  an  alliance  with  the  ro3'al 
famil}'  of  France.  The  hand  of  her  second  daughter 
(afterwards  Duchesse  d'Aumale)  was  offered  on  her  be-, 
half  to  the  Vidame  de  Chartres,  who  was  kept  poor  by 
the  far-sighted  polic}'  of  FranQois  1.  In  fact,  when  the 
Vidame  de  Chartres  and  the  Prince  de  Conde  first  came 
to  court,  Fran9ois  I.  gave  them  —  what?     The  office  of 


48  Introduction, 

chamberlain,  with  a  paltry  salar}-  of  twelve  hundred 
crowns  a  year,  the  same  that  he  gave  to  the  simplest 
gentlemen.  Though  Diane  de  Poitiers  offered  an  im- 
mense dowr3%  a  fine  office  under  the  crown,  and  the 
favor  of  the  king,  the  vidame  refused.  After  which, 
this  Bourbon,  already  factious,  married  Jeanne,  daugh- 
ter of  the  Baron  d'  Estissac,  by  whom  he  had  no  chil- 
dren. This  act  of  pride  naturally  commended  him  to 
Catherine,  who  greeted  him  after  that  with  marked 
favor  and  made  a  devoted  friend  of  him. 

Historians  have  compared  the  last  Due  de  Mont- 
niorenc}',  beheaded  at  Toulouse,  to  the  Vidame  de 
Chartres,  in  the  art  of  pleasing,  in  attainments,  ac- 
complishments, and  talent.  Henri  II.  showed  no  jeal- 
ousy ;  he  seemed  not  even  to  suppose  that  a  queen  of 
France  could  fail  in  her  dut}',  or  a  Medici  forget  the 
honor  done  to  her  by  a  Valois.  But  during  this  time 
when  the  queen  was,  it  is  said,  coquetting  with  the 
Vidame  de  Chartres,  the  king,  after  the  birth  of  her  last 
child,  had  virtually  abandoned  her.  This  attempt  at 
making  him  jealous  was  to  no  purpose,  for  Henri  died 
wearing  the  colors  of  Diane  de  Poitiers. 

At  the  time  of  the  king's  death  Catherine  was,  there- 
fore, on  terms  of  gallantr}^  with  the  vidame,  —  a  situation 
which  was  quite  in  conformity  with  the  manners  and 
morals  of  a  time  when  love  was  both  so  chivalrous  and 
so  licentious  that  the  noblest  actions  were  as  natural  as 
the  most  blamable ;  although  historians,  as  usual,  have 
committed  the  mistake  in  tliis  case  of  taking  the  excep- 
tion for  the  rule. 

The  four  sons  of  Henri  II.  of  course  rendered  null 
the  position  of  the  Bourbons,  who  were  all  extremely 


Introduction.  49 


poor  and  were  now  crushed  down  by  the  contempt 
which  the  Connetable  de  Montmorency's  treachery 
brought  upon  them,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  latter 
had  thought  best  to  fly  the  kingdom. 

The  Vidame  de  Chartres  —  who  was  to  the  first 
Prince  de  Conde  what  Richeheu  was  to  Mazarin,  his 
ffither  in  polic}",  his  model,  and,  above  all,  his  master 
in  orallantry  —  concealed  the  excessive  ambition  of  his 
house  beneath  an  external  appearance  of  light-hearted 
gayet}'.  Unable  during  the  reign  of  Henri  II.  to  make 
head  asfainst  the  Guises,  the  Montmorencvs,  the  Scot- 
tish  princes,  the  cardinals,  and  the  Bouillons,  he  distin- 
guished himself  by  his  graceful  bearing,  his  manners, 
his  wit,  which  won  him  the  favor  of  many  charming 
women  and  the  heart  of  some  for  whom  he  cared  noth- 
ing. He  was  one  of  those  privileged  beings  whose  se- 
ductions are  irresistible,  and  who  owe  to  love  the  power 
of  maintaining  themselves  according  to  thpir  rank. 
The  Bourbons  would  not  have  resented,  as  did  Jarnac, 
the  slander  of  la  Chataigneraie ;  they  were  willing 
enough  to  accept  the  lands  and  castles  of  their  mis- 
tresses, —  witness  the  Prince  de  Conde,  who  accepted 
the  estate  of  Saint-Valery  from  Madame  la  Marechale 
de  Saint- Andre. 

During  the  first  twent}^  days  of  mourning  after  the 
death  of  Henri  II.  the  situation  of  the  vidame  suddenly 
changed.  As  the  object  of  the  queen-mother's  regard, 
and  permitted  to  pa}"  his  court  to  her  as  court  is  paid  to 
a  queen,  very  secretl}',  he  seemed  destined  to  play  an 
important  role,  and  Catherine  did,  in  fact,  resolve  to 
use  him.  The  vidame  received  letters  from  her  for  the 
Prince  de  Conde,  in  which  she  pointed  out  to  the  latter 

4 


50  Introduction, 

the  necessity'  of  an  alliance  against  the  Guises.  In- 
formed of  this  intrigue,  the  Guises  entered  the  queen's 
chamber  for  the  purpose  of  compeUing  her  to  issue  an 
order  consigning  the  vidame  to  the  Bastille,  and  Cathe- 
rine, to  save  herself,  was  under  the  hard  necessity  of 
obeying  them.  After  a  captivit}'  of  some  months,  the 
vidame  died  on  the  very  da}'  he  left  prison,  which  was 
shortl}'  before  the  conspirac}'  of  Amboise.  Such  was 
the  conclusion  of  the  first  and  only  amour  of  Catherine 
de'  Medici.  Protestant  historians  have  said  that  the 
queen  caused  the  vidame  to  be  poisoned,  to  la}'  the 
secret  of  her  gallantries  in  a  tomb ! 

We  have  now  shown  what  was  the  apprenticeship  of 
this  woman  for  the  exercise  of  her  royal  power. 


Catherine  de^  Medici,  51 


PART    FIRST. 

THE   CALVINIST  MARTYR. 
I. 

A  HOUSE  WHICH  NO  LONGER  EXISTS  AT  THE  CORNER  OF 
A  STREET  WHICH  NO  LONGER  EXISTS  IN  A  PARIS  WHICH 
NO   LONGER   EXISTS. 

Few  persons  in  the  present  day  know  how  plain  and 
unpretentious  were  the  dwellings  of  the  burghers  of 
Paris  in  the  sixteenth  centurj',  and  how  simple  their 
lives.  Perhaps  this  simplicit}'  of  habits  and  of  thought 
was  the  cause  of  the  grandeur  of  that  old  bourgeoisie 
which  was  certainly-  grand,  free,  and  noble,  —  more  so, 
perhaps,  than  the  bourgeoisie  of  the  present  day.  Its 
history  is  still  to  be  written  ;  it  requires  and  it  awaits  a 
man  of  genius.  This  reflection  will  doubtless  rise  to 
the  lips  of  ever\'  one  after  reading  the  almost  unknown 
incident  which  forms  the  basis  of  this  Stud}'  and  is  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  facts  in  the  history  of  that 
bourgeoisie.  It  will  not  be  the  first  time  in  history 
that  conclusion  has  preceded  facts. 

In  1560,  the  houses  of  the  rue  de  la  Vieille-Pelleterie 
skirted  the  left  bank  of  the  Seine,  between  the  pont 
Notre-Dame  and  the  pont  au  Change.  A  public  foot- 
path and  the  houses  then  occupied  the  space  covered  by 


52  Catherine  de    Medici, 

the  present  roadway.  Each  house,  standing  almost  in 
the  river,  allowed  its  dwellers  to  get  down  to  the  water 
by  stone  or  wooden  stairways,  closed  and  protected  by 
strong  iron  railings  or  wooden  gates,  clamped  with  iron. 
The  houses,  like  those  in  Venice,  had  an  entrance  on 
te7'ra  firma  and  a  water  entrance.  At  the  moment 
when  the  present  sketch  is  published,  only  one  of  these 
houses  remains  to  recall  the  old  Paris  of  which  we 
speak,  and  that  is  soon  to  disappear ;  it  stands  at  the 
corner  of  the  Petit- Pont,  directly  opposite  to  the  guard- 
bouse  of  the  H6tel-Dieu. 

Formerly  each  dwelling  presented  on  the  river-side 
the  fantastic  appearance  given  either  by  the  trade  of 
its  occupant  and  his  habits,  or  by  the  originality  of  the 
exterior  constructions  invented  by  the  proprietors  to 
use  or  abuse  the  Seine.  The  bridges  being  encumbered 
with  more  mills  than  the  necessities  of  navigation  could 
allow,  the  Seine  formed  as  many  enclosed  basins  as 
there  were  bridges.  Some  of  these  basins  in  the  heart 
of  old  Paris  would  have  offered  precious  scenes  and 
tones  of  color  to  painters.  What  a  forest  of  cross- 
beams supported  the  mills  with  their  huge  sails  and 
their  wheels !  What  strange  effects  were  produced  by 
the  piles  or  props  driven  into  the  water  to  project  the 
upper  floors  of  the  houses  above  the  stream  !  Unfor- 
tunately, the  art  of  genre  painting  did  not  exist  in  those 
days,  and  that  of  engraving  was  in  its  infanc}'.  We 
have  therefore  lost  that  curious  spectacle,  still  offered, 
though  in  miniature,  by  certain  provincial  towns,  where 
the  rivers  are  overhung  with  wooden  houses,  and  where, 
as  at  Vendome,  the  basins,  full  of  water  grasses,  are 
enclosed  by  immense  iron  railings,  to  isolate  each  pro- 


1^ 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  53 


prietor's  share  of  the  stream,  which  extends  from  bank 
to  bank. 
1^  The  name  of  this  street,  which  has  now  disappeared 
from  the  map,  sufficiently  indicates  tlie  trade  that  was 
carried  on  in  it.  In  those  dajs  the  merchants  of  each 
class  of  commerce,  instead  of  dispersing  themselves 
about  the  cit}',  kept  together  in  the  same  neighbor- 
hood and  protected  themselves  mutualh'.  Associated 
in  corporations  which  limited  their  number,  they  were 
still  further  united  into  guilds  b}'  the  Church.  In  this 
way  prices  were  maintained.  Also,  the  masters  were 
not  at  the  mercy  of  their  workmen,  and  did  not  obe}^ 
their  whims  as  the}"  do  to-da}' ;  on  the  contrary,  they 
made  them  their  children,  their  apprentices,  took  care 
of  them,  and  taught  them  the  intricacies  of  the  trade. 
In  order  to  become  a  master,  a  workman  had  to  pro- 
duce a  masterpiece,  which  was  alwa3S  dedicated  to  the 
saint  of  his  guild.  Will  any  one  dare  to  say  that  the 
absence  of  competition  destroyed  the  desire  for  perfec- 
tion, or  lessened  the  beauty  of  products?  What  sa}'' 
you,  you  whose  admiration  for  the  masterpieces  of  past 
ages  has  created  the  modern  trade  of  the  sellers  of 
bric-a-brac  ? 

In  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries  the  trade  of 
the  furrier  was  one  of  the  most  flourishing  industries. 
The  difficult}'  of  obtaining  furs,  which,  being  all  brought 
from  the  north,  required  long  and  perilous  journeys, 
gave  a  very  high  price  and  value  to  those  products. 
Then,  as  now,  high  prices  led  to  consumption  ;  for 
vanity  likes  to  override  obstacles.  In  France,  as  in 
other  kingdoms,  not  only  did  royal  ordinances  restrict 
the  use  of  furs  to    the  nobility    (proved    by  the   part 


54  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

which  ermine  plays  in  the  old  blazons),  but  also  cer- 
tain rare  furs,  such  as  vair  (which  was  undoubtedly 
Siberian  sable),  could  not  be  worn  b}'  any  but  kings, 
dukes,  and  certain  lords  clothed  with  official  powers. 
A  distinction  was  made  between  the  greater  and  lesser 
vair.  The  very  name  has  been  so  long  disused,  that 
in  a  vast  number  of  editions  of  Perrault's  famous  tale, 
Cinderella's  slipper,  which  was  no  doubt  of  vair  (the 
fur),  is  said  to  have  been  made  of  verre  (glass). 
Latel}'  one  of  our  most  distinguished  poets  was  obliged 
to  establish  the  true  orthograph}'  of  the  word  for  the 
instruction  of  his  brother-feuilletonists  in  giving  an 
account  of  the  opera  of  the  "  Cenerentola,"  where  the 
symbolic  slipper  has  been  replaced  b}^  a  ring,  which 
symbolizes  nothing  at  all. 

Naturally  the  sumptuary  laws  about  the  wearing  of 
fur  were  perpetually  infringed  upon,  to  the  great  satis- 
faction of  the  furriers.  The  costliness  of  stuffs  and 
furs  made  a  garment  in  those  da^'s  a  durable  thing,  — 
as  lasting  as  the  furniture,  the  armor,  and  other  items 
of  that  strong  life  of  the  fifteenth  centur3\  A  woman 
of  rank,  a  seigneur,  all  rich  men,  also  all  the  burghers, 
possessed  at  the  most  two  garments  for  each  season, 
which  lasted  their  lifetime  and  beyond  it.  These  gar- 
ments were  bequeathed  to  their  children.  Consequently 
the  clause  in  the  marriage-contract  relating  to  arms 
and  clothes,  which  in  these  davs  is  almost  a  dead 
letter  because  of  the  small  value  of  wardrobes  that 
need  constant  renewing,  was  then  of  much  importance. 
Great  costs  brought  with  them  solidity.  The  toilet  of 
a  woman  constituted  a  large  capital ;  it  was  reckoned 
among  the  family  possessions^  and  was  kept  in  those 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  55 

enormous  chests  which  threaten  to  break  through  the 
floors  of  our  modern  houses.  The  jewels  of  a  wom.an 
of  1840  would  have  been  the  undress  ornaments  of  a 
great  lady  in  1540. 
1^  To-day,  the  discovery  of  America,  the  facilities  of 
transportation,  the  ruin  of  social  distinctions  which  has 
paved  the  way  for  the  ruin  of  apparent  distinctions,  has 
reduced  the  trade  of  the  furrier  to  what  it  now  is,  — 
next  to  nothing.  The  article  which  a  furrier  sells  to- 
day, as  in  former  days,  for  twenty  livres  has  followed 
the  depreciation  of  money  :  formerly  the  llvre,  which  is 
now  worth  one  franc  and  is  usually  so  called,  was 
worth  twenty  francs.  To-day,  the  lesser  bourgeoisie 
and  the  courtesans  who  edge  their  capes  with  sable,  are 
ignorant  that  in  1440  an  ill-disposed  police-officer  would 
have  incontinently  arrested  them  and  marched  them 
before  the  justice  at  the  Chatelet.  Englishwomen,  who 
are  so  fond  of  ermine,  do  not  know  that  in  former  times 
none  but  queens,  duchesses,  and  chancellors  were 
allowed  to  wear  that  royal  fur.  There  are  to-day  in 
France  several  ennobled  families  whose  true  name  is 
Pelletier  or  Lepelletier,  the  origin  of  which  is  evidently 
derived  from  some  rich  furrier's  counter,  for  most  of 
our  burghers*  names  began  in  some  such  yf^y. 

This  digression  will  explain,  not  only  the  long  feud  as 
to  precedence  which  the  guild  of  drapers  maintained 
for  two  centuries  against  the  guild  of  furriers  and  also 
of  mercers  (each  claiming  the  right  to  walk  first,  as 
being  the  most  important  guild  in  Paris),  but  it  will  also 
serve  to  explain  the  importance  of  the  Sieur  Lecamus, 
a  furrier  honored  with  the  custom  of  two  queens, 
Catherine  de'  Medici  and  Mar}^  Stuart,  also  the  custom 


56  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

of  the  parliamenf,  —  a  man  who  for  twent}"  3'ears  was 
the  syndic  of  his  corporation,  and  who  lived  in  the  street 
we  have  just  described. 

The  liouse  of  Lecamus  was  one  of  three  which  formed 
the  three  angles  of  the  open  space  at  the  end  of  the 
pont  au  Change,  where  nothing  now  remains  but  the 
tower  of  the  Palais  de  Justice,  which  made  the  fourth 
angle.  On  the  corner  of  this  house,  which  stood  at  the 
angle  of  the  pont  au  Change  and  the  quai  now  called  the 
quai  aux  Fleurs,  the  architect  had  constructed  a  little 
shrine  for  a  Madonna,  which  was  alwa3's  lighted  b}'  wax- 
tapers  and  decked  with  real  flowers  in  summer  and  arti- 
ficial ones  in  winter.  On  the  side  of  the  house  toward  the 
rue  du  Pont,  as  on  the  side  toward  the  rue  de  la  Vieille- 
Pelleterie,  the  upper  stor\"  of  the  house  was  supported  by 
wooden  pillars.  All  the  houses  in  this  mercantile  quar- 
ter had  an  arcade  behind  these  pillars,  where  the  passers 
in  the  street  walked  under  cover  on  a  ground  of  trod- 
den mud  which  kept  the  place  always  dirty.  In  all 
French  towns  these  arcades  or  galleries  are  called 
les  piliersy  a  generic  term  to  which  was  added  the  name 
of  the  business  transacted  under  them,  —  as  ''piliers 
des  Halles"  (markets),  "  piliers  de  la  Boucherie " 
(butchers). 

These  galleries,  a  necessity  in  the  Parisian  climate, 
which  is  so  changeable  and  so  rain}',  gave  this  part  of 
the  cit\'  a  peculiar  character  of  its  own  ;  but  they  have 
now  disappeared.  Not  a  single  house  on  the  river  bank 
remains,  and  not  more  than  about  a  hundred  feet  of  the 
old  "  piliers  des  Halles ''  the  last  that  have  resisted  the 
action  of  time,  are  left ;  and  before  long  even  that  relic 
of  the  sombre  labyrinth  of  old  Paris  will  be  demolished. 


Catherine  de*  Medici.  57 


ertainl}',  the  existence  of  such  old  ruins  of  the  middle- 
ages  is  incompatible  with  the  grandeurs  of  modern 
Paris.  These  observations  are  meant  not  so  much  to 
regret  the  destruction  of  the  old  town,  as  to  preserve 
in  wordsj  and  b}^  the  history  of  those  who  lived  there, 
the  memory  of  a  place  now  turned  to  dust,  and  to 
excuse  the  following  description,  which  may  be  precious 
to  a  future  age  now  treading  on  the  heels  of  our  own. 

The  walls  of  this  house  were  of  wood  covered  with 
slate.  The  spaces  between  the  uprights  had  been  filled 
in,  as  we  may  still  see  in  some  provincial  towns,  with 
brick,  so  placed,  by  reversing  their  thickness,  as  to 
make  a  pattern  called  "  Hungarian  point."  The  win- 
dow-casings and  lintels,  also  in  wood,  were  richly 
carved,  and  so  was  the  corner  pillar  where  it  rose  above 
the  shrine  of  the  Madonna,  and  all  the  other  pillars  in 
front  of  the  house.  Each  window,  and  each  main  beam 
which  separated  the  different  storeys,  was  covered  with 
arabesques  of  fantastic  personages  and  animals  wreathed 
with  conventional  foliage.  On  the  street  side,  as  on 
the  river  side,  the  house  was  capped  with  a  roof  looking 
as  if  two  cards  were  set  up  one  against  the  other,  —  thus 
presenting  a  gable  to  the  street  and  a  gable  to  the 
water.  Tiiis  roof,  like  the  roof  of  a  Swiss  chalet,  over- 
hung the  building  so  far  that  on  the  second  floor  there 
was  an  outside  gallery  with  a  balustrade,  on  which  the 
owners  of  the  house  could  walk  under  cover  and  sur- 
vey the  street,  also  the  river  basin  between  the  bridges 
and  the  two  lines  of  houses. 
IP  These  houses  on  the  river  bank  were  ver}'  valuable. 
In  those  days  a  system  of  drains  and  fountains  was  still 
to  be  invented  ;    nothing  of  the   kind  as  j'et  existed 


58  Catherine  de'  MedicL 

except  the  circuit  sewer,  constructed  by  Aubriot,  pro- 
vost of  Paris  under  Charles  the  Wise,  who  also  built  the 
Bastille,  the  pont  Saint-Michel  and  other  bridges,  and 
was  the  first  man  of  genius  who  ever  thought  of  the 
sanitary  improvement  of  Paris.  The  houses  situated 
like  that  of  Lecamus  took  from  the  river  the  water 
necessarj'  for  the  purposes  of  life,  and  also  made  the 
river  serve  as  a  natural  drain  for  rain-w^ater  and  house- 
hold refuse.  The  great  works  that  the  "  merchants' 
provosts''  did  in  this  direction  are  fast  disappearing. 
Middle-aged  persons  alone  can  remember  to  have  seen 
the  great  holes  in  the  rue  Montmartre,  rue  du  Temple, 
etc.,  down  which  the  waters  poured.  Those  terrible 
open  jaws  were  in  the  olden  time  of  immense  benefit  to 
Paris.  Their  place  will  probably  be  forever  marked  by 
the  sudden  rise  of  the  paved  roadways  at  the  spots 
where  the}'  opened,  —  another  archaeological  detail  which 
will  be  quite  inexplicable  to  the  historian  two  centuries 
hence.  One  day,  about  1816,  a  little  girl  who  was 
carrying  a  case  of  diamonds  to  an  actress  at  the  Am- 
bigu,  for  her  part  as  queen,  was  overtaken  by  a  shower 
and  so  nearly-  washed  down  the  great  drainhole  in  the 
rue  du  Temple  that  she  would  have  disappeared  had  it 
not  been  for  a  passer  who  heard  her  cries.  Unluckil}', 
she  had  let  go  the  diamonds,  which  were,  however, 
recovered  later  at  a  man-hole.  This  event  made  a 
great  noise,  and  gave  rise  to  many  petitions  against 
these  engulfers  of  water  and  little  girls.  They^  were 
singular  constructions  about  five  feet  high,  furnished 
with  iron  railings,  more  or  less  movable,  which  often 
caused  the  inundation  of  the  neighboring  cellars, 
whenever  the  ju'tificial  river  produced  by  sudden  rains 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  59 


was  arrested  in  its  course  by  the  filth  and  refuse  col- 
lected about  these  railings,  which  the  owners  of  the 
abutting  houses  sometimes  forgot  to  open. 

The  front  of  this  shop  of  the  Sieur  Lecamus  was  all 
window,  formed  of  sashes  of  leaded  panes,  which  made 
the  interior  very  dark.  The  furs  were  taken  for  selec- 
tion to  the  houses  of  rich  customers.  As  for  those  who 
came  to  the  shop  to  bu}',  the  goods  were  shown  to  them 
outside,  between  the  pillars,  —  the  arcade  being,  let  us 
remark,  encumbered  during  the  day-time  with  tables, 
and  clerks  sitting  on  stools,  such  as  we  all  remember 
seeing  some  fifteen  years  ago  under  the  '•  piliers  des 
Halles."  From  these  outposts,  the  clerks  and  appren- 
tices talked,  questioned,  answered  each  other,  and 
called  to  the  passers,  — customs  which  the  great  Walter 
Scott  has  made  use  of  in  his  '^Fortunes  of  Nigel." 

The  sign,  which  represented  an  ermine,  hung  out- 
side, as  we  still  see  in  some  village  hostelries,  from  a 
rich  bracket  of  gilded  iron  filagree.  Above  the  ermine, 
on  one  side  of  the  sign,  were  the  words  :  — 

LECAMVS 

Furrier 
To  Madame  la  Royne  et  du  Roy  nostre  Sire. 

n  the  other  side  of  the  sign  were  the  words :  — 
To  Madame  la  Royxe-mere 
And  Messieurs  dv  Parlement. 

The  words  '*  Madame  la  Royne-m^re  *'  had  been 
lately  added.     The  gilding  was  fresh.     This  addition 


60  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

showed  the  recent  changes  produced  b}-  the  sudden  and 
violent  death  of  Henri  II.,  which  overturned  many  for- 
tunes at  court  and  began  that  of  tlie  Guises. 

The  back-shop  opened  on  tiie  river.  In  this  room 
usually  sat  the  respectable  proprietor  himself  and 
Mademoiselle  Lecamus.  In  those  days  the  wife  of  a 
man  who  was  not  noble  had  no  right  to  the  title  of 
dame,  "  madame ;  "  but  the  wives  of  the  burghers  of 
Paris  were  allowed  to  use  that  of  ^*  mademoiselle,'*  in 
virtue  of  privileges  granted  and  confirmed  to  their  hus- 
bands by  the  several  kings  to  whom  they  had  done  ser- 
vice. Between  this  back-shop  and  the  main  shop  was 
the  well  of  a  corkcrew-staircase  which  gave  access  to 
the  upper  stor}',  where  were  the  great  ware-room  and 
the  dwelling -rooms  of  the  old  couple,  and  the  garrets 
lighted  by  skylights,  where  slept  the  children,  the  ser- 
vant-woman, the  apprentices,  and  the  clerks. 

This  crowding  of  families,  servants,  and  apprentices, 
the  little  space  which  each  took  up  in  the  building 
where  the  apprentices  all  slept  in  one  large  chamber 
under  the  roof,  explains  the  enormous  population  of 
Paris  then  agglomerated  on  one-tenth  of  the  surface  of 
the  present  city  ;  also  the  queer  details  of  private  life  in 
the  middle  ages ;  also,  the  contrivances  of  love  which, 
with  all  due  deference  to  historians,  are  found  only  in 
the  pages  of  the  romance-writers,  without  whom  they 
would  be  lost  to  the  world.  At  this  period  \evy  great 
seigneurs,  such,  for  instance,  as  Admiral  de  Colignj', 
occupied  three  rooms,  and  their  suites  lived  at  some 
neighboring  inn.  There  were  not,  in  those  days,  more 
than  fifty  private  mansions  in  Paris,  and  those  were 
fifty  palaces  belonging  to  sovereign  princes,  or  to  great 


t  Catherine  de'  Medici.  61 

vassals,  whose  wa}'  of  living  was  superior  to  that  of  the 
greatest  German  rulers,  such  as  the  Duke  of  Bavaria 
H  and  the  Elector  of  Saxon}'. 
H  The  kitchen  of  the  Lecamus  famil}'  was  beneath  the 
"  back-shop  and  looked  out  upon  the  river.  It  had  a 
glass  door  opening  upon  a  sort  of  iron  balcony,  from 
which  the  cook  drew  up  water  in  a  bucket,  and  where 
the  household  washing  was  done.  The  back-shop  was 
made  the  dining-room,  office,  and  salon  of  the  mer- 
chant. In  this  important  room  (in  all  such  houses 
richly  panelled  and  adorned  with  some  special  work  of 
art,  and  also  a  carved  chest)  the  life  of  the  merchant 
owner  was  passed  ;  there  the  joyous  suppers  after  the 
work  of  the  da}^  was  over,  there  the  secret  conferences 
on  the  political  interests  of  the  burghers  and  of  royalty 
took  place.  The  formidable  corporations  of  Paris  were 
at  that  time  able  to  arm  a  hundred  thousand  men. 
Therefore  the  opinions  of  the  merchants  were  backed 
b}'  their  servants,  their  clerks,  their  apprentices,  their 
workmen.  The  burghers  had  a  chief  in  the  "  provost 
of  the  merchants"  who  commanded  them,  and  in  the 
H6tel  de  Ville,  a  palace  where  they  possessed  the  right 
to  assemble.  In  the  famous  ''  burghers'  parlor "  their 
solemn  deliberations  took  place.  Had  it  not  been  for 
the  continual  sacrifices  which  by  that  time  made  war 
intolerable  to  the  corporations,  who  were  weary  of  their 
losses  and  of  the  famine,  Henry  IV.,  that  factionist  who 
became  king,  might  never  perhaps  have  entered  Paris. 

Ever}'  one  can  now  picture  to  himself  the  appearance 
of  this  corner  of  old  Paris,  where  the  bridge  and  quai 
still  are,  where  the  trees  of  the  quai  aux  Fleurs  now 
stand,  but  where  no  trace  remains  of  the  period  of 


62  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

which  we  write  except  the  tall  and  famous  tower  of 
the  Palais  de  Justice,  from  which  the  signal  was  given 
for  the  Saint  Bartholomew.  Strange  circumstance  !  one 
of  the  houses  standing  at  the  foot  of  that  tower  then 
surrounded  b}'  wooden  shops,  that,  namelj-,  of  Lecamus, 
was  about  to  witness  the  birth  of  facts  which  were  des» 
tined  to  prepare  for  that  night  of  massacre,  which  was, 
unhappilj',  more  favorable  than  fatal  to  Calvinism. 

At  the  moment  when  our  histor}'  begins,  the  audacit}' 
of  the  new  religious  doctrines  was  putting  all  Paris  in 
a  ferment.  A  Scotchman  named  Stuart  had  just  assas- 
sinated President  Minard,  the  member  of  the  Parliament 
to  whom  public  opinion  attributed  the  largest  share  in 
the  execution  of  Councillor  Anne  du  Bourg ;  who  was 
burned  on  the  place  de  Gr6ve  after  the  king's  tailor  — 
to  whom  Henri  II.  and  Diane  de  Poitiers  had  caused 
the  torture  of  the  "  question "  to  be  applied  in  their 
very  presence.  Paris  was  so  closely  watched  that  the 
archers  compelled  all  passers  along  the  street  to  pray 
before  the  shrines  of  the  Madonna  so  as  to  discover 
heretics  by  their  unwillins^ness  or  even  refusal  to  do  an 
act  contrary  to  their  beliefs. 

The  two  archers  who  were  stationed  at  the  corner  of 
the  Lecamus  house  had  departed,  and  Christophe,  son 
of  the  furrier,  vehementh'  suspected  of  deserting  Cathol- 
icism, was  able  to  leave  the  shop  without  fear  of  being 
made  to  adore  the  Virgin.  B\"  seven  in  the  evening, 
in  April,  1560,  darkness  was  already  falling,  and  the 
apprentices,  seeing  no  signs  of  customers  on  either  side 
of  the  arcade,  were  beginning  to  take  in  the  merchan- 
dise exposed  as  samples  beneath  the  pillars,  in  order 
to   close   the  shop.     Christopher  Lecamus,  an  ardent 


F 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  63 


3'oung  man  about  twenty-two  3'ears  old,  was  standing 
on  the  sill  of  the  shop-door,  apparently  watching  the 
apprentices. 

"  Monsieur,'*  said  one  of  them,  addressing  Christophe 
and  pointing  to  a  man  who  was  walking  to  and  fro 
under  the  gallery  with  an  air  of  indecision,  "  perhaps 
that 's  a  thief  or  a  spy  ;  anyhow,  the  shabby  wretch 
can't  be  an  honest  man  ;  if  he  wanted  to  speak  to  us  he 
would  come  over  frankl}',  instead  of  sidling  along  as  he 
does  —  and  what  a  face  !  "  continued  the  apprentice, 
mimicking  the  man,  ''with  his  nose  in  his  cloak,  his 
yellow  eyes,  and  that  famished  look !  " 

When  the  stranger  thus  described  caught  sight  of 
Christophe  alone  on  the  door-sill,  he  suddenly  left  the 
opposite  gallery  where  he  was  then  walking,  crossed 
the  street  rapidh',  and  came  under  the  arcade  in  front 
oftheLecamus  house.  There  he  passed  slowl}^  along 
in  front  of  the  shop,  and  before  the  apprentices  re- 
turned to  close  tlie  outer  shutters  he  said  to  Christophe 
in  a  low  voice  :  — 

"  I  am  Chaudieu." 

Hearing  the  name  of  one  of  the  most  illustrious 
ministers  and  devoted  actors  in  the  terrible  drama 
called  ^'  The  Reformation,"  Christophe  quivered  as  a 
faithful  peasant  might  have  quivered  on  recognizing 
his  disguised  king. 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  see  some  furs?  Though 
it  is  almost  dark  I  will  show  3'ou  some  myself,"  said 
Christophe,  washing  to  throw  the  apprentices,  whom  he 
heard  behind  him,  off  the  scent. 

With  a  wave  of  his  hand  he  invited  the  minister 
to  enter  the  shop,  but  the  latter  replied  that  he  pre- 


64  Catherine  de*  Medici. 

ferred  to  converse  outside.  Christophe  then  fetched 
his  cap  and  followed  the  disciple  of  Calvin. 

Though  banished  by  an  edict,  Chaudieu,  the  secret 
envo}'  of  Theodore  de  Beze  and  Calvin  (who  were 
directing  the  French  Reformation  from  Geneva),  went 
and  came,  risking  the  cruel  punishment  to  which  tlie 
Parliament,  in  unison  with  the  Church  and  Royalt}', 
had  condemned  one  of  their  number,  the  celebrated 
Anne  du  Bourg,  in  order  to  make  a  terrible  example. 
Chaudieu,  whose  brother  was  a  captain  and  one  of 
Admiral  Coligny's  best  soldiers,  was  a  powerful  auxil- 
iar}^  by  whose  arm  Calvin  shook  France  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  twenty-two  3'ears  of  religious  warfare  now 
on  the  point  of  breaking  out.  This  minister  was  one 
of  the  hidden  wheels  whose  movements  can  best  exhibit 
the  wide-spread  action  of  the  Reform. 

Chaudieu  led  Christophe  to  the  water's  edge  through 
an  underground  passage,  which  was  like  that  of  the 
Marion  tunnel  filled  up  by  the  authorities  about  ten 
3'ears  ago.  This  passage,  which  was  situated  between 
the  Lecamus  house  and  the  one  adjoining  it,  ran  under 
the  rue  de  la  Vieille-Pelleterie,  and  was  called  the 
Pont-aux-Fourreurs.  It  was  used  by  the  d3'ers  of  the 
City  to  go  to  the  river  and  wash  their  flax  and 
silks,  and  other  stuffs.  A  little  boat  was  at  the  en- 
trance of  it,  rowed  b3'  a  single  sailor.  In  the  bow  was 
a  man  unknown  to  Christophe,  a  juan  of  low  stature 
and  ver3'  simpl3'  dressed.  Chaudieu  and  Christophe 
entered  the  boat,  which  in  a  moment  was  in  the  middle 
of  the  Seine  ;  the  sailor  then  directed  its  course  beneath 
one  of  the  wooden  arches  of  the  pont  au  Change,  where 
he  tied  up  quickl3'  to  an  iron  ring.  As  3xt,  no  one  had 
said  a  word. 


r 


Catherine  cle'  Medici,  65 


'  Here  we  can  speak  without  fear ;  there  are  no 
traitors  or  spies  here,"  said  Chaudieu,  looking  at  the 
two  as  3'et  unnamed  men.  Then,  turning  an  ardent 
face  to  Christophe,  ''  Are  you,"  he  said,  ''  full  of  that 
devotion  that  should  animate  a  martyr?  Are  vou 
read}'  to  endure  all  for  our  sacred  cause?  Do  you 
fear  the  tortures  applied  to  the  Councillor  du  Bourg,  to 
the  king's  tailor,  —  tortures  which  await  the  majority 
of  us?" 

"'I  shall  confess  the  gospel,"  replied  Lecamus, 
simply,  looking  at  the  windows  of  his  father's  back- 
shop. 

The  family  lamp,  standing  on  the  table  where  his 
father  was  making  up  his  books  for  the  da}^  spoke  to 
him,  no  doubt,  of  the  joys  of  famil3'  and  the  peaceful 
existence  which  he  now  renounced.  The  vision  was 
rapid,  but  complete.  His  mind  took  in,  at  a  glance, 
the  burgher  quarter  full  of  its  own  harmonies,  where  his 
happj''  childhood  had  been  spent,  where  lived  his  prom- 
ised bride,  Babette  Lallier,  where  all  things  promised 
him  a  sweet  and  full  existence ;  he  saw  the  past ;  he 
saw  the  future,  and  he  sacrificed  it,  or,  at  any  rate,  he 
staked  it  all.     Such  were  the  men  of  that  da}-. 

''  We  need  ask  no  more,"  said  the  impetuous  sailor  ; 
*'  we  know  him  for  one  of  our  saints.  If  the  Scotch- 
man had  not  done  the  deed  he  would  kill  us  that  infa- 
mous Minard." 

*'  Yes,"  said  Lecamus,  "  mv  life  belonofs  to  the 
Church  ;  I  shall  give  it  with  joy  for  the  triumph  of  the 
Reformation,  on  which  I  have  seriously  reflected.  I 
know  that  what  we  do  is  for  the  happiness  of  the 
peoples.    In  two  words  ;  poperj'  drives  to  celibacy  ;  the 

5 


66  Catherine  de    Medici. 

Reformation  establishes  the  famih'.  It  is  time  to  rid 
France  of  her  monks,  to  restore  their  lands  to  the 
Crown,  who  will,  sooner  or  later,  sell  them  to  the 
burghers.  Let  us  learn  to  die  for  our  children,  and 
make  our  families  some  da}'  free  and  prosperous." 

The  face  of  the  young  enthusiast,  that  of  Chaudieu, 
that  of  the  sailor,  that  of  the  stranger  seated  in  the 
bow,  lighted  b}'  the  last  gleams  of  the  twilight,  formed 
a  picture  which  ought  the  more  to  be  described  because 
the  description  contains  in  itself  the  whole  history  of 
the  times  —  if  it  is,  indeed,  true  that  to  certain  men  it 
is  given  to  sum  up  in  their  own  persons  the  spirit  of 
their  age. 

The  religious  reform  undertaken  by  Luther  in  Ger- 
many, John  Knox  in  Scotland,  Calvin  in  France,  took 
hold  especiall}'  of  those  minds  in  the  lower  classes  into 
which  thought  had  penetrated.  The  great  lords  sus- 
tained the  movement  onlv  to  serve  interests  that  were 
foreign  to  the  religious  cause.  To  these  two  classes 
were  added  adventurers,  ruined  noblemen,  3'ounger 
sons,  to  whom  all  troubles  were  equally  acceptable. 
But  among  the  artisan  and  merchant  classes  the  new 
faith  was  sincere  and  based  on  calculation.  The  masses 
of  the  poorer  people  adhered  at  once  to  a  religion  which 
gave  the  ecclesiastical  propert}'  to  the  State,  and  de- 
prived the  dignitaries  of  the  Church  of  their  enormous 
revenues.  Commerce  ever3'where  reckoned  up  the 
profits  of  this  religious  operation,  and  devoted  itself 
bod}',  soul,  and  purse,  to  the  cause. 

But  among  the  3'oung  men  of  the  French  bourgeoisie 
the  Protestant  movement  found  that  noble  inclination 
to  sacrifices  of  all  kinds  which  inspires  3'outh,  to  which 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  67 


selfishness  is,  as  3'et,  unknown.  Eminent  men,  saga- 
cious minds,  discerned  the  Republic  in  the  Reforma- 
tion ;  they  desired  to  establish  throughout  Europe  the 
government  of  the  United  Provinces,  which  ended  by 
triumphing  over  the  greatest  Power  of  those  times, 
—  Spain,  under  Philip  the  Second,  represented  in  the 
Low  Countries  by  the  Duke  of  Alva.  Jean  Hotoman 
was  then  meditating  his  famous  book,  in  which  this 
project  is  put  forth,  —  a  book  which  spread  throughout 
France  the  leaven  of  these  ideas,  which  were  stirred 
up  anew  b}^  the  Ligue,  repressed  by  Richelieu,  then  by 
Louis  XIV.,  always  protected  by  the  younger  branches, 
by  the  house  of  Orleans  in  1789,  as  by  the  house  of 
Bourbon  in  1589.  Whoso  saj's  "Investigate"  says 
''  Revolt."  All  revolt  is  either  the  cloak  that  hides 
a  prince,  or  the  swaddling-clothes  of  a  new  mastery. 
The  house  of  Bourbon,  the  younger  sons  of  the  Valois, 
were  at  work  beneath  the  surface  of  the  Reformation. 

At  the  moment  when  the  little  boat  floated  beneath 
the  arch  of  the  pout  au  Change  the  question  was 
strangel}"  complicated  by  the  ambition  of  the  Guises, 
who  were  rivalling  the  Bourbons.  Thus  the  Crown, 
represented  by  Catherine  de'  Medici,  was  able  to  sus- 
tain the  struggle  for  thirty  years  by  pitting  the  one 
house  against  the  other  house ;  whereas  later,  the 
Crown,  instead  of  standing  between  various  jealous  am- 
bitions, found  itself  without  a  barrier,  face  to  face  with 
the  people :  Richelieu  and  Louis  XIV.  had  broken 
down  the  barrier  of  the  Nobilit}' ;  Louis  XV.  had 
broken  down  that  of  the  Parliaments.  Alone  before 
the  people,  as  Louis  XVI.  was,  a  king  must  inevitably 
succumb. 


68  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

Christophe  Lecamus  was  a  fine  representative  of  the 
ardent  and  devoted  portion  of  the  people.  His  wan 
face  had  the  sharp  hectic  tones  which  distinguish  cer- 
tain fair  complexions  ;  his  hair  was  yellow,  of  a  cop- 
pery shade ;  his  gray-blue  eyes  were  sparkling.  In 
them  alone  was  his  fine  soul  visible  ;  for  his  ill-pro- 
portioned face  did  not  atone  for  its  triangular  shape 
by  the  noble  mien  of  an  elevated  mind,  and  his  low 
forehead  indicated  only  extreme  energy.  Life  seemed 
to  centre  in  his  chest,  which  was  rather  hollow.  More 
nervous  than  sanguine,  Christophe's  bodily  appearance 
was  thin  and  threadlike,  but  wir}-.  His  pointed  nose 
expressed  the  shrewdness  of  the  people,  and  his  coun- 
tenance revealed  an  intelligence  capable  of  conducting 
itself  well  on  a  single  point  of  the  circumference,  with- 
out having  the  facult}^  of  seeing  all  around  it.  His 
eyes,  the  arching  brows  of  which,  scarcely  covered  with 
a  whitish  down,  projected  like  an  awning,  were  strongly 
circled  bj-  a  pale-blue  band,  the  skin  being  white  and 
shining  at  the  spring  of  the  nose,  —  a  sign  which  almost 
always  denotes  excessive  enthusiasm.  Christophe  was 
of  the  people,  —  the  people  who  devote  themselves,  who 
fight  for  their  devotions,  who  let  themselves  be  in- 
veigled and  betrayed ;  intelligent  enough  to  compre- 
hend and  serve  an  idea,  too  upright  to  turn  it  to  his 
own  account,  too  noble  to  sell  himself. 

Contrasting  with  this  son  of  Lecamus,  Chaudieu,  the 
ardent  minister,  with  brown  hair  thinned  by  vigils, 
a  3'ellow  skin,  an  eloquent  mouth,  a  militant  brow, 
with  flaming  brown  eyes,  and  a  short  and  prominent 
chin,  embodied  well  the  Christian  faith  which  brought 
to  the  Reformation  so  many  sincere  and  fanatical  pas- 


Catherine  de    Medici,  69 


tors,  whose  courage  and  spirit  aroused  tlie  populations. 
The  aide-de-camp  of*  Calvin  and  Theodore  de  Beze 
contrasted  admirably  with  the  son  of  the  furrier.  He 
represented  the  fiery  cause  of  which  the  effect  was  seen 
in  Christophe. 

The  sailor,  an  impetuous  being,  tanned  by  the  open 
air,  accustomed  to  dewy  nights  and  burning  da3's,  with 
closed  lips,  hasty  gestures,  orange  eyes,  ravenous  as 
those  of  a  vulture,  and  black,  frizzled  hair,  was  the 
embodiment  of  the  adventurer  who  risks  all  in  a  ven- 
ture, as  a  gambler  stakes  all  on  a  card.  His  whole 
appearance  revealed  terrific  passions,  and  an  audacity 
that  flinched  at  nothing.  His  vigorous  muscles  were 
made  to  be  quiescent  as  well  as  to  act.  His  manner 
was  more  audacious  than  noble.  His  nose,  though 
thin,  turned  up  and  snuffed  battle.  He  seemed  agile 
and  capable.  You  would  have  known  him  in  all  ages 
for  the  leader  of  a  part}*.  If  he  were  not  of  the  Refor- 
mation, he  might  have  been  Pizarro,  Fernando  Cortez, 
or  Morgan  the  Exterminator,  —  a  man  of  violent  action 
of  some  kind. 

The  fourth  man,  sitting  on  a  thwart  wrapped  in  his 
cloak,  belonged,  evidently,  to  the  highest  portion  of 
societ}'.  The  fineness  of  his  linen,  its  cut,  the  material 
and  scent  of  his  clothing,  the  style  and  skin  of  his 
gloves,  showed  him  to  be  a  man  of  courts,  just  as  his 
bearing,  his  haughtiness,  his  composure  and  his  all- 
embracing  glance  proved  him  to  be  a  man  of  war. 
The  aspect  of  this  personage  made  a  spectator  uneasy 
in  the  first  place,  and  then  inclined  him  to  respect. 
We  respect  a  man  who  respects  himself  Though 
short   and  deformed,  his  manners  instantly  redeemed 


70  Catherine  de    Medici. 

the  disadvantage  of  his  figure.  The  ice  once  broken, 
he  showed  a  lively  rapidity  of  decision,  with  an  indefin- 
able dash  and  fire  which  made  him  seem  aflfable  and 
winning.  He  had  the  blue  e^xs  and  the  curved  nose 
of  the  house  of  Navarre,  and  the  Spanish  cut  of  the 
marked  features  which  were  in  after  days  the  type  of 
the  Bourbon  kings. 

In  a  word,  the  scene  now  assumed  a  startling  interest. 

"Well,"  said  Chaudieu,  as  3'oung  Lecamus  ended 
his  speech,  ''  this  boatman  is  La  Renaudie.  And  here 
is  Monseigneur  the  Prince  de  Conde,"  he  added,  motion- 
ing to  the  deformed  little  man. 

Thus  these  four  men  represented  the  faith  of  the 
people,  the  spirit  of  the  Scriptures,  the  mailed  hand 
of  the  soldier,  and  royalty  itself  hidden  in  that  dark 
shadow  of  the  bridge. 

'^  You  shall  now  know  what  we  expect  of  3'ou,"  re- 
sumed the  minister,  after  allowing  a  short  pause  for 
Christophe's  astonishment.  ''  In  order  that  you  may 
make  no  mistake,  we  feel  obliged  to  initiate  3*ou  into 
the  most  important  secrets  of  the  Reformation.  ** 

The  prince  and  La  Renaudie  emphasized  the  minis- 
ter's speech  by  a  gesture,  the  latter  having  paused  to 
allow  the  prince  to  speak.  If  he  so  wished.  Like  all 
great  men  engaged  in  plotting,  whose  system  it  is  to 
conceal  their  hand  until  the  decisive  moment,  the 
prince  kept  silence  —  but  not  from  cowardice.  In  these 
crises  he  was  alwa3's  the  soul  of  the  conspiracy ;  recoil- 
ing before  no  danger  and  read3^  to  risk  his  own  head ; 
but  from  a  sort  of  royal  dignit3'  he  left  the  explanation 
of  the  enterprise  to  his  minister,  and  contented  himself 
with  studying  the  new  instrument  he  was  about  to  use. 


■T^ 


Catherine  de*  Medici,  71 


"  My  child,"  said  Chaudieu,  in  the  Huguenot  style  of 
address,  "we  are  about  to  do  battle  for  the  first  time 
with  the  Roman  prostitute.  In  a  few  daj's  either  our 
legions  will  be  dying  on  the  scaffold,  or  the  Guises  will 
be  dead.  This  is  the  first  call  to  arms  on  behalf  of  our 
relio:ion  in  France,  and  France  will  not  lav  down  those 
arms  till  they  have  conquered.  The  question,  mark  you 
this,  concerns  the  nation,  not  the  kingdom.  The  ma- 
jorit}^  of  the  nobles  of  the  kingdom  see  plainly  what  the 
Cardinal  de  Lorraine  and  his  brother  are  seeking. 
Under  pretext  of  defending  the  Catholic  religiou,  the 
house  of  Lorraine  means  to  claim  the  crown  of  France 
as  its  patrimony.  Relying  on  the  Church,  it  has  made 
the  Church  a  formidable  ally  ;  the  monks  are  its  sup- 
port, its  acolytes,  its  spies.  It  has  assumed  the  post  of 
guardian  to  the  throne  it  is  seeking  to  usurp  ;  it  protects 
the  house  of  Valois  which  it  means  to  destroy.  We 
have  decided  to  take  up  arras  because  the  liberties  of 
the  people  and  the  interests  of  the  nobles  are  equally 
threatened.  Let  us  smother  at  its  birth  a  faction  as 
odious  as  that  of  the  Burgundians  who  formerly  put 
Paris  and  all  France  to  fire  and  sword.  It  required  a 
Louis  XI.  to  put  a  stop  to  the  quarrel  between  the  Bur- 
gundians and  the  Crown  ;  and  to-daj'  a  Prince  de  Conde 
is  needed  to  prevent  the  house  of  Lorraine  from  re- 
attempting  that  struggle.  This  is  not  a  civil  war  ;  it  is 
a  duel  between  the  Guises  and  the  Reformation,  —  a 
duel  to  the  death !  We  will  make  their  heads  fall,  or 
they  shall  have  ours." 

''  Well  said  !  "  cried  the  prince. 

"  In  this  crisis,  Christophe,"  said  La  Renaudie,  "  we 
mean  to  neglect  nothing  which  shall  strengthen  our  party 


72  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

—  for  there  is  a  party  in  the  Reformation,  the  party  of 
thwarted  interests,  of  nobles  sacrificed  to  the  Lorrains, 
of  old  captains  shamefully  treated  at  Fontainebleau, 
from  which  the  cardinal  has  banished  them  by  setting 
up  gibbets  on  which  to  hang  those  who  ask  the  king  for 
the  cost  of  their  equipment  and  their  back-pa3\" 

''  This,  my  child,"  resumed  Chaudieu,  observing  a 
sort  of  terror  in  Christophe,  "this  it  is  which  compels 
us  to  conquer  b}'  arms  instead  of  conquering  by  convic- 
tion and  by  martyrdom.  The  queen-mother  is  on  the 
point  of  entering  into  our  views.  Not  that  she  means 
to  abjure  ;  she  has  not  reached  that  decision  as  yet ;  but 
she  may  be  forced  to  it  b}'  our  triumph.  However  that 
may  be,  Queen  Catherine,  humiliated  and  in  despair  at 
seeing  the  power  she  expected  to  wield  on  the  death  of 
the  king  passing  into  the  hands  of  the  Guises,  alarmed 
at  the  empire  of  the  young  queen,  Marj',  niece  of  the 
Lorrains  and  their  auxiliar}*,  Queen  Catherine  is  doubt- 
less inclined  to  lend  her  support  to  the  princes  and  lords 
who  are  now  about  to  make  an  attempt  which  will  de- 
liver her  from  the  Guises.  At  this  moment,  devoted  as 
she  may  seem  to  them,  she  hates  them  ;  she  desires 
their  overthrow,  and  will  tr}'  to  make  use  of  us  against 
them ;  but  Monseigneur  the  Prince  de  Conde  intends 
to  make  use  of  her  against  all.  The  queen-mother 
will,  undoubtedl}',  consent  to  all  our  plans.  We  shall 
have  the  Connetable  on  our  side ;  Monseigneur  has 
just  been  to  see  him  at  Chantllly  ;  but  he  does  not  wish 
to  move  without  an  order  from  his  masters.  Being 
the  uncle  of  Monseigneur,  he  will  not  leave  him  in  the 
lurch ;  and  this  generous  prince  does  not  hesitate  to 
fling  himself  into  danger  to  force  Anne  de  Montmorency 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  73 

to  a  decision.  All  is  prepared,  and  we  have  cast  our 
eyes  on  you  as  the  means  of  communicating  to  Queen 
Catherine  our  treaty  of  alliance,  the  drafts  of  edicts, 
and  the  bases  of  the  new  government.  The  court  is  at 
Blois.  Many  of  our  friends  are  with  it;  but  the}^  are  to 
be  our  future  chiefs,  and,  Uke  Monseigneur,"  he  added, 
motioning  to  the  prince,  ''  they  must  not  be  suspected. 
The  queen-mother  and  our  friends  are  so  closely  watched 
that  it  is  impossible  to  emplo}'  as  intermediary  any 
known  person  of  importance ;  they  would  instantly  be 
suspected  and  kept  from  communicating  with  Madame 
Catherine.  God  sends  us  at  this  crisis  the  shepherd 
David  and  his  sling  to  do  battle  with  Goliath  of  Guise. 
Your  father,  unfortunately  for  him  a  good  Catholic,  is 
furrier  to  the  two  queens.  He  is  constantly  supphing 
them  with  garments.  Get  him  to  send  3'ou  on  some 
errand  to  the  court.  You  will  excite  no  suspicion,  and 
you  cannot  compromise  Queen  Catherine  in  an}'  way. 
All  our  leaders  would  lose  their  heads  if  a  single  im- 
prudent  act  allowed  their  connivance  with  the  queen- 
mother  to  be  seen.  Where  a  great  lord,  if  discovered, 
would  give  the  alarm  and  destroy  our  chances,  an  insig- 
nificant man  like  you  will  pass  unnoticed.  See  !  The 
Guises  keep  the  town  so  full  of  spies  that  we  have  only 
the  river  where  we  can  talk  without  fear.  You  are  now, 
my  son,  like  a  sentinel  who  must  die  at  his  post.  Re- 
member this  :  if  vou  are  discovered,  we  shall  all  abandon 
you ;  we  shall  even  cast,  if  necessar}',  opprobrium  and 
infam}'  upon  3'ou.  We  shall  say  that  you  are  a  creature 
of  the  Guises,  made  to  pla}'  this  part  to  ruin  us.  You 
see  therefore  that  we  ask  of  you  a  total  sacrifice." 
"If  you   perish,'*    said   the   Prince   de   Conde,   "I 


74  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

pledge  ray  honor  as  a  noble  that  j'our  famil}'  shall  be 
sacred  for  the  house  of  Navarre  ;  I  will  bear  it  on  my 
heart  and  serve  it  in  all  things.'' 

'^  Those  words,  m3^  prince,  suffice,"  replied  Christophe, 
without  reflecting  that  the  conspirator  was  a  Gascon. 
'^We  live  in  times  when  each  man,  prince  or  burgher, 
must  do  his  dut3\" 

"  There  speaks  the  true  Huguenot.  If  all  our  men 
were  like  that,"  said  La  Renaudie,  laying  his  hand 
on  Christophe's  shoulder,  "  we  should  be  conquerors 
to-morrow.'* 

''Young  man,"  resumed  the  prince,  "I  desire  to 
show  3'ou  that  if  Chaudieu  preaches,  if  the  nobleman 
goes  armed,  the  prince  fights.  Therefore,  in  this  hot 
game  all  stakes  are  pla3'ed." 

"Now  listen  to  me,"  said  La  Renaudie.  "I  will 
not  give  you  the  papers  until  you  reach  Beaugency, 
for  they  must  not  be  risked  during  the  whole  of  your 
journey.  You  will  find  me  waiting  for  you  there  on  the 
wharf;  my  face,  voice,  and  clothes  will  be  so  changed 
3'ou  cannot  recognize  me,  but  I  shall  sa3^  to  you,  '  Are 
3'ou  a  guepin?  *  and  3'ou  will  answer,  '  Read3'  to  serve.' 
As  to  the  performance  of  3'our  mission,  these  are  the 
means:  You  will  find  a  horse  at  the  "  Pinte  Fleurie," 
close  to  Saint-Germain  I'Auxerrois.  You  will  there 
ask  for  Jean  le  Breton,  who  will  take  you  to  the  stable 
and  give  3'ou  one  of  my  ponies  which  is  known  to  do 
thirty  leagues  in  eight  hours.  Leave  b3^  the  gate  of 
Bussy.  Breton  has  a  pass  for  me  ;  use  it  yourself,  and 
make  your  way  b3'  skirting  the  towns.  You  can  thus 
reach  Orleans  by  daybreak." 

"  But  the  horse?  "  said  young  Lecamus. 


Catherine  de*  Medici,  75 

"He  will  not  give  out  till  you  reach  Orle'ans,"  replied 
La  Renaudie.  "  Leave  him  at  the  entrance  of  the 
faubourg  Bannier ;  for  the  gates  are  well  guarded,  and 
you  must  not  excite  suspicion.  It  is  for  you,  friend,  to 
play  your  part  intelligently.  You  must  invent  what- 
IB  ever  fable  seems  to  you  best  to  reach  the  third  house 
to  the  left  on  entering  Orleans  ;  it  belongs  to  a  certain 
Tourillon,  glove-maker.  Strike  three  blows  on  the 
door,  and  call  out :  '  On  service  from  Messieurs  de 
Guise!'  The  man  will  appear  to  be  a  rabid  Guisist; 
no  one  knows  but  our  four  selves  that  he  is  one  of  us. 
He  will  give  you  a  faithful  boatman,  —  another  Guisist 
of  his  own  cut.  Go  down  at  once  to  the  wharf,  and 
embark  in  a  boat  painted  green  and  edged  with  white. 
You  will  doubtless  land  at  Beaugency  to-morrow  about 
mid-day.  There  I  will  arrange  to  find  you  a  boat  which 
will  take  you  to  Blois  without  running  any  risk.  Our 
enemies  the  Guises  do  not  watch  the  rivers,  only  the 
landings.  Thus  3'ou  will  be  able  to  see  the  queen- 
mother  to-morrow  or  the  day  after.*' 

*'Your  words  are  written  there/'  said  Christophe, 
touching  his  forehead. 

Chaudieu  embraced  his  child  with  singular  religious 
effusion ;    he  was  proud  of  him. 

''God  keep  thee  !"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  rudd^^ 
light  of  the  sinking  sun,  which  was  touching  the  old 
roofs  covered  with  shingles  and  sending  its  gleams 
slantwise  through  the  forest  of  piles  among  which  the 
water  was  rippling. 

"You  belong  to  the  race  of  the  Jacques  Bonhomme," 
said  La  Renaudie,  pressing  Christophe's  hand. 

"  We  shall  meet  again,  monsieur^''  said  the  prince, 


I 


76  Catherine  de^  Medici, 

with  a  gesture  of  infinite  grace,  in  which   there  was 
something  that  seemed  almost  friendship. 

With  a  stroke  of  his  oars  La  Renaudie  put  the  boat 
at  the  lower  step  of  the  stairway  which  led  to  the 
house.  Christophe  landed,  and  the  boat  disappeared 
instantly  beneath  the  arches  of  the  pont  au  Change. 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  77 


11. 

THE    BURGHERS. 

Christophe  shook  the  iron  railing  which  closed  the 
stairwa}'  on  the  river,  and  called.  His  mother  heard 
him,  opened  one  of  the  windows  of  the  back  shop,  and 
asked  what  he  was  doing  there.  Christophe  answered 
that  he  was  cold  and  wanted  to  get  in. 

"  Ha  !  my  master,"  said  the  Burgundian  maid,  "  you 
went  out  b}^  the  street-door,  and  you  return  by  the 
water-gate.     Your  father  will  be  fine  and  angr}*." 

Christophe,  bewildered  by  a  confidence  which  had 
just  brought  him  into  communication  with  the  Prince 
de  Conde,  La  Renaudie,  and  Chaudieu,  and  still  more 
moved  at  the  prospect  of  impending  civil  war,  made  no 
answer ;  he  ran  hastilj^  up  from  the  kitchen  to  the  back 
shop ;  but  his  mother,  a  rabid  Catholic,  could  not  con- 
trol her  anger. 

"  I  *11  wager  those  three  men  I  saw  you  talking  with 
are  Ref— " 

''Hold  your  tongue,  wife!"  said  the  cautious  old 
man  with  white  hair  who  was  turning  over  a  thick 
ledger.  "  You  dawdling  fellows,"  he  went  on,  address- 
ing three  journeymen,  who  had  long  finished  their  sup- 
pers, "  why  don't  3'ou  go  to  bed?  It  is  eight  o'clock, 
and  you  have  to  be  up  at  five  ;  besides,  you  must  carry 
home  to-night   President  de  Thon's  cap  and   mantle. 


78  Catherine  de^  Medici. 

All  three  of  3'ou  had  better  go,  and  take  3'our  sticks 
and  rapiers;  and  then,  if  you  meet  scamps  like  jour- 
selves,  at  least  you  '11  be  in  force." 

"Are  we  also  to  take  the  ermine  surcoat  the  3'oung 
queen  has  ordered  to  be  sent  to  the  hotel  des  Soissons? 
there's  an  express  going  from  there  to  Blois  for  the 
queen-mother,"  said  one  of  the  clerks. 

"No,"  said  his  master,  "the  queen-mother's  bill 
amounts  to  three  thousand  crowns  ;  it  is  time  to  get  the 
mone}',  and  I  am  going  to  Blois  myself  verj'  soon." 

"  Father,  I  do  not  think  it  is  right  at  your  age  and 
in  these  dangerous  times  to  expose  3'ourself  on  the 
high-roads.  J  am  twent3'-two  years  old,  and  you  ought 
to  employ  me  on  such  errands,"  said  Christophe,  ej^eing 
the  box  which  he  supposed  contained  the  surcoat. 

"  Are  you  glued  to  your  seats  ?  "  cried  the  old  man  to 
his  apprentices,  who  at  once  jumped  up  and  seized  their 
rapiers,  cloaks,  and  Monsieur  de  Thou's  furs. 

The  next  day  the  Parliament  was  to  receive  in  state, 
as  its  president,  this  illustrious  judge,  who,  after  signing 
the  death  warrant  of  Councillor  du  Bourg,  was  destined 
before  the  close  of  the  j'ear  to  sit  in  judgment  on  the 
Prince  de  Conde  I 

"Here  !  "  said  the  old  man,  calling  to  the  maid,  "  go 
and  ask  friend  Lallier  if  he  will  come  and  sup  with  us 
and  bring  the  wine ;  we  '11  furnish  the  victuals.  Tell 
him,  above  all,  to  bring  his  daughter." 

Lecamus,  the  syndic  of  the  guild  of  furriers,  was  a 
handsome  old  man  of  sixt\^,  with  white  hair,  and  a 
broad,  open  brow.  As  court  furrier  for  the  last  forty 
3'ears,  he  had  witnessed  all  the  revolutions  of  the  reign 
of  Frangois  I.     He  had  seen  the  arrival  at  the  French 


i 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  79 

court  of  the  young  girl  Catherine  de'  Medici,  then 
scarcely  fifteen  years  of  age.  He  had  observed  her 
giving  way  before  the  Duchesse  d'Etampes,  her  father- 
in-law's  mistress  ;  giving  wa}^  before  the  Duchesse  de 
Valentinois,  the  mistress  of  her  husband  the  late  king. 
But  the  furrier  had  brought  himself  safely  through  all  the 
chances  and  changes  bv  which  court  merchants  were  often 
involved  in  the  dissfrace  and  overthrow  of  mistresses. 
His  caution  led  to  his  good  luck.  He  maintained  an 
attitude  of  extreme  humility.  Pride  had  never  caught  him 
in  its  toils.  He  made  himself  so  small,  so  gentle,  so 
compliant,  of  so  little  account  at  court  and  before  the 
queens  and  princesses  and  favorites,  that  this  modesty, 
combined  with  good-humor,  had  kept  the  royal  sign 
above  his  door. 

Such  a  policy  was,  of  course,  indicative  of  a  shrewd 
and  perspicacious  mind.  Humble  as  Lecamus  seemed  to 
the  outer  w^orld,  he  was  despotic  in  his  own  home  ;  there 
he  was  an  autocrat.  INIuch  respected  and  honored  b}^  his 
brother  craftsmen,  he  owed  to  his  long  possession  of 
the  first  place  in  the  trade  much  of  the  consideration 
that  was  shown  to  him.  He  was,  besides,  very  willing 
to  do  kindnesses  to  others,  and  among  the  many  ser- 
vices he  had  rendered,  none  was  more  striking  than  the 
assistance  he  had  long  given  to  the  greatest  surgeon  of 
the  sixteenth  centur}',  Ambroise  Pare,  who  owed  to  him 
the  possibility  of  studying  for  his  profession.  In 
all  the  difl^culties  which  came  up  among  the  merchants 
Lecamus  was  always  conciliating.  Thus  a  general 
good  opinion  of  him  consolidated  his  position  among 
his  equals ;  while  his  borrowed  characteristics  kept  him 
steadilv  in  favor  with  the  court. 


80  Catherine  dd  Medici. 

Not  only  this,  but  having  intrigued  for  the  honor  of 
being  on  the  vestry  of  his  parish  church,  he  did  what 
was  necessary  to  bring  him  into  the  odor  of  sanctit}' 
with  the  rector  of  Saint-Pierre  aux  Boeufs,  who  looked 
upon  him  as  one  of  the  men  most  devoted  to  the 
Catholic  religion  in  Paris.  Consequentl3',  at  the  time 
of  the  convocation  of  the  States-General  he  was  unani- 
mously elected  to  represent  the  tiers  etat  through  the 
influence  of  the  clergy  of  Paris,  —  an  influence  which  at 
that  period  was  immense.  This  old  man  was,  in  short, 
one  of  those  secretly  ambitious  souls  who  will  bend  for 
fifty  years  before  all  the  world,  gliding  from  office  to 
oflSce,  no  one  exactl}^  knowing  how  it  came  about  that 
he  was  found  securely  and  peacefully  seated  at  last 
where  no  man,  even  the  boldest,  would  have  had  the 
ambition  at  the  beginning  of  life  to  fancy  himself;  so 
great  was  the  distance,  so  many  the  gulfs  and  the  preci- 
pices to  cross !  Lecamus,  who  had  immense  concealed 
wealth,  would  not  run  an}'  risks,  and  was  silentl}'  pre- 
paring a  brilliant  future  for  his  son.  Instead  of  having 
the  personal  ambition  which  sacrifices  the  future  to  the 
present,  he  had  famil}'  ambition,  —  a  lost  sentiment  in  our 
time,  a  sentiment  suppressed  by  the  folly  of  our  laws  of 
inheritance.  Lecamus  saw  himself  first  president  of  the 
Parliament  of  Paris  in  the  person  of  his  grandson. 

Christophe,  godson  of  the  famous  historian  de  Thou, 
was  given  a  most  solid  education ;  but  it  had  led  him 
to  doubt  and  to  the  spirit  of  examination  which  was 
then  affecting  both  the  Faculties  and  the  students  of 
the  universities.  Christophe  was,  at  the  period  of  which 
we  are  now  writing,  pursuing  his  studies  for  the  bar, 
that  first  step  toward  the  magistracy.     The  old  furrier 


Catherine  de    Medici.  81 

was  pretending  to  some  hesitation  as  to  his  son. 
Sometimes  he  seemed  to  wish  to  make  Christophe  his 
successor ;  then  again  he  spoke  of  him  as  a  lawyer ;  but 
in  his  heart  he  was  ambitious  of  a  place  for  this  son  as 
Councillor  of  the  Parliament.  He  wanted  to  put  the 
Lecamus  family  on  a  level  with  those  old  and  celebrated 
burgher  families  from  which  came  the  Pasquiers,  the 
Moles,  the  Mirons,  the  Seguiers,  Lamoignon,  du  Tillet, 
Lecoigneux,  Lescalopier,  Goix,  Arnauld,  those  famous 
sheriffs  and  grand-provosts  of  the  merchants,  among 
whom  the  throne  found  such  strong  defenders. 
\  Therefore,  in  order  that  Christophe  might  in  due 
course  of  time  maintain  his  rank,  he  wished  to  marry 
him  to  the  daughter  of  the  richest  jeweller  in  the  city, 
his  friend  Lallier,  whose  nephew  was  destined  to  pre- 
sent to  Henri  IV.  the  kevs  of  Paris.  The  strongest 
desire  rooted  in  the  heart  of  the  worth}^  burgher  was 
to  emplo}"  half  of  his  fortune  and  half  of  that  of  the 
jeweller  in  the  purchase  of  a  large  and  beautiful  seigno- 
rial  estate,  which,  in  those  days,  was  a  long  and  very 
difficult  affair.  But  his  shrewd  mind  knew  the  a«re  in 
which  he  lived  too  well  to  be  isjnorant  of  the  srreat  move- 
ments  which  were  now  in  preparation.  He  saw  clearly, 
and  he  saw  justly,  and  knew  that  the  kingdom  w^as  about 
to  be  divided  into  two  camps.  The  useless  executions  in 
the  Place  de  L'Estrapade,  that  of  the  king's  tailor  and 
the  more  recent  one  of  the  Councillor  Anne  du  Bourg:, 
the  actual  connivance  of  the  great  lords,  and  that  of  the 
favorite  of  Fran9ois  I.  with  the  Reformers,  were 
terrible  indications.  The  furrier  resolved  to  remain, 
whatever  happened.  Catholic,  royalist,  and  parliamenta- 
rian; but  it  suited  him,  privately,  that  Christophe  should 


L 


82  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

belong  to  the  Reformation.  He  knew  he  was  rich  enough 
to  ransom  his  son  if  Christophe  was  too  much  compro- 
mised ;  and,  on  the  other  hand  if  France  became  Cal- 
vinist  his  son  could  save  the  family  in  the  event  of  one 
of  those  furious  Parisian  riots,  the  memory  of  which 
was  ever-living  with  the  bourgeoisie,  —  riots  they  were 
destined  to  see  renewed  through  four  reigns. 

But  these  thoughts  the  old  furrier,  like  Louis  XI., 
did  not  even  say  to  himself;  his  wariness  went  so  far 
as  to  deceive  his  wife  and  son.  This  grave  person- 
age had  long  been  the  chief  man  of  the  richest  and 
most  populous  quarter  of  Paris,  that  of  the  centre, 
under  the  title  of  quartenier^  —  the  title  and  office 
which  became  so  celebrated  some  fifteen  months  later. 
Clothed  in  cloth  like  all  the  prudent  burghers  who 
obej'ed  the  sumptuar}'  laws,  Sieur  Lecamus  (he  was 
tenacious  of  that  title  which  Charles  V.  granted  to  the 
burghers  of  Paris,  permitting  them  also  to  bu}"  baro- 
nial estates  and  call  their  wives  by  the  fine  name  of 
demoiselle^  but  not  by  that  of  madame)  wore  neither 
gold  chains  nor  silk,  but  always  a  good  doublet  with 
large  tarnished  silver  buttons,  cloth  gaiters  mounting 
to  the  knee,  and  leather  shoes  with  clasps.  His  shirty 
of  fine  linen,  showed,  according  to  the  fashion  of  the 
time,  in  great  puffs  between  his  half-opened  jacket  and 
his  breeches.  Though  his  large  and  handsome  face 
received  the  full  light  of  the  lamp  standing  on  the 
table,  Christophe  had  no  conception  of  the  thoughts 
that  lay  buried  beneath  the  rich  and  florid  Dutch  skin 
of  the  old  man  ;  but  he  understood  well  enough  the 
advantage  he  himself  had  expected  to  obtain  from  his 
affection  for  prett}'  Babette   Lallier.     So   Christophe, 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  83 

ith  the  air  of  a  man  who  has  come  to  a  decision, 
smiled  bitterly  as  he  heard  of  the  invitation  to  his 
promised  bride. 

When  the  Burgundian  cook  and  the  apprentices  had 
departed  on  their  several  errands,  old  Lecamus  looked 
at  his  wife  with  a  glance  which  showed  the  firmness 
.and  resolution  of  his  character. 

IP  ''  You  will  not  be  satisfied  till  you  have  got  that  bo}^ 
hanged  with  your  damned  tongue,"  he  said,  in  a  stern 
voice. 

W  "  I  would  rather  see  him  hanged  and  saved  than  living 
and  a  Huguenot,''  she  answered,  gloomily.  "  To  think 
that  a  child  whom  I  carried  nine  months  in  my  womb 
should  be  a  bad  Catholic,  and  be  doomed  to  hell  for  all 
eternit}' ! " 

»She  began  to  weep. 
"Old  silk,'*  said  the  furrier;  "let  him  live,  if  only 
to  convert  him.     You  said,  before  the  apprentices,  a 
word  which  may  set  fire  to  our  house,  and  roast  us  all, 
like  fleas  in  a  straw  bed." 

The  mother  crossed  herself,  and  sat  down  silentl}'. 

"Now,  then,  you,''  said  the  old  man,  with  a  judicial 
glance  at  his  son,  "  explain  to  me  what  you  were  doing 
on  the  river  with  —  come  closer,  that  I  ma}'  speak 
to  you,"  he  added,  grasping  his  son  by  the  arm,  and 
drawing  him  to  him  —  "with  the  Prince  de  Conde." 
he  whispered.  Christophe  trembled.  "Do  you  sup- 
pose the  court  furrier  does  not  know  everv  face  that 
frequents  the  palace?  Think  you  I  am  ignorant  of 
what  is  going  on?  Monseigneur  the  Grand  Master 
has  been  giving  orders  to  send  troops  to  Amboise. 
Withdrawing  troops  from  Paris  to  send  them  to  Am- 


I 


84  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

boise  when  the  king  is  at  Blois,  and  making  them 
inarch  through  Chartres  and  Vendome,  instead  of  going 
by  Orleans  —  isn't  the  meaning  of  that  clear  enough? 
There  '11  be  troubles.  If  the  queens  want  their  sur- 
coats,  they  must  send  for  them.  The  Prince  de  Cond^ 
has  perhaps  made  up  his  mind  to  kill  Messieurs  de 
Guise ;  who,  on  their  side,  expect  to  rid  themselves  of 
him.  The  prince  will  use  the  Huguenots  to  protect 
himself.  Why  should  the  son  of  a  furrier  get  himself 
into  that  fray?  When  3'ou  are  married,  and  when  you 
are  councillor  to  the  Parliament,  you  will  be  as  prudent 
as  your  father.  Before  belonging  to  the  new  religion, 
the  son  of  a  furrier  ought  to  wait  till  the  rest  of  the 
world  belongs  to  it.  I  don't  condemn  the  Reformers ; 
it  is  not  my  business  to  do  so ;  but  the  court  is  Cath- 
olic, the  two  queens  are  Catholic,  the  Parliament  is 
Catholic ;  we  supply  them  with  furs,  and  therefore  we 
must  be  Catholic  ourselves.  You  shall  not  go  out 
from  here,  Christophe ;  if  you  do,  I  will  send  30U  to 
your  godfather.  President  de  Thou,  who  will  keep  you 
night  and  day  blackening  paper,  instead  of  blackening 
your  soul  in  company  with  those  damned  Genevese." 

"  Father,"  said  Christophe,  leaning  upon  the  back  of 
the  old  man's  chair,  "send  me  to  Blois  to  carrj'  that 
surcoat  to  Queen  Mary  and  get  our  money  from  the 
queen-mother.  If  you  do  not,  I  am  lost ;  and  3'ou  care 
for  your  son." 

"  Lost?  "  repeated  the  old  man,  without  showing  the 
least  surprise.  ''  If  you  stay  here  3'ou  can't  be  lost  j  I 
shall  have  m}'  eye  upon  you  all  the  time." 

*'  The3"  will  kill  me  here." 

^' Why?" 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  85 

*•'  The  most  powerful  among  the  Huguenots  have  east 
their  ej^es  on  me  to  serve  them  in  a  certain  matter;  if  I 
fail  to  do  what  I  have  just  promised  to  do,  they  will 
kill  me  in  open  day,  here  in  the  street,  as  they  killed 
Minard.  But  if  you  send  me  to  court  on  your  affairs, 
perhaps  I  can  justify  myself  equally  well  to  botli  sides. 
Either  I  shall  succeed  without  having  run  any  danger 
at  all,  and  shall  then  win  a  fine  position  in  the  party ; 
or,  if  the  danger  turns  out  very  great,  I  shall  be  there 
simpl}'  on  your  business." 

The  father  rose  as  if  his  chair  was  of  red-hot  iron. 

*' Wife,"  he  said,  ''  leave  us;  and  watch  that  we  are 
left  quite  alone,  Christophe  and  I." 

When  Mademoiselle  Lecamus  had  left  them  the  fur- 
rier took  his  son  by  a  button  and  led  him  to  the  corner 
of  the  room  which  made  the  angle  of  the  bridge. 

"  Christophe,"  he  said,  whispering  in  his  ear  as  he 
had  done  when  he  mentioned  the  name  of  the  Prince 
of  Conde,  ''  be  a  Huguenot,  if  3'ou  have  that  vice;  but 
be  so  cautiously,  in  the  depths  of  3'our  soul,  and  not 
in  a  way  to  be  pointed  at  as  a  heretic  throughout  the 
quarter.  What  3'ou  have  just  confessed  to  me  shows 
that  the  leaders  have  confidence  in  you.  What  are  3'ou 
going  to  do  for  them  at  court?" 

'^  I  cannot  tell  you  that,"  replied  Christophe  ;  "  for  I 
do  not  know  myself." 

'*  Hum  !  hum  !  "  muttered  the  old  man,  looking  at  his 
son,  "the  scamp  means  to  hoodwink  his  father;  he'll 
go  far.  You  are  not  going  to  court,"  he  went  on  in  a 
low  tone,  ''  to  cany  remittances  to  Messieurs  de  Guise 
or  to  the  little  king  our  master,  or  to  the  little  Queen 
Marie.      All  those   hearts  are  Catholic ;   but   I   would 


86  Catherine  de'  3Iedici. 

take  m}^  oath  the  Italian  woman  has  some  spite  against 
the  Scotch  girl  and  against  the  Lorrains.  I  know  her. 
She  had  a  desperate  desire  to  put  her  hand  into  the 
dough.  The  late  king  was  so  afraid  of  her  that  he  did 
as  the  jewellers  do,  he  cut  diamond  by  diamond,  he 
pitted  one  woman  against  another.  That  caused  Queen 
Catherine's  hatred  to  the  poor  Duchesse  de  Valentinois, 
from  whom  she  took  the  beautiful  chateau  of  Chenon- 
ceaux.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  the  Connetable,  the 
duchess  might  have  been  strangled.  Back,  back,  my 
son  ;  don't  put  yourself  in  the  hands  of  that  Italian,  who 
has  no  passion  except  in  her  brain ;  and  that 's  a  bad 
kind  of  woman  !  Yes,  what  the}'  are  sending  you  to  do 
at  court  ma}'  give  you  a  very  bad  headache,"  cried  the 
father,  seeing  that  Christophe  was  about  to  reply. 
"  My  son,  I  have  plans  for  your  future  which  3'ou  will 
not  upset  by  making  yourself  useful  to  Queen  Catherine  ; 
but,  heavens  and  earth  I  don't  risk  your  head.  Mes- 
sieurs de  Guise  would  cut  it  off  as  easily  as  the  Bur- 
gundian  cuts  a  turnip,  and  then  those  persons  who  are 
now  employing  you  will  disown  you  utterlj'." 

'^  I  know  that,  father,"  said  Christophe. 

"What!  are  3'ou  really  so  strong,  my  son?  You 
know  it,  and  are  willing  to  risk  all?" 

"  Yes,  father." 

"  By  the  powers  above  us !  "  cried  the  father,  press- 
ing his  son  in  his  arms,  "  we  can  understand  each 
other  ;  3'ou  are  worth}'  of  3'our  father.  M3'  child,  3"ou'll 
be  the  honor  of  the  family,  and  I  see  that  3'our  old 
father  can  speak  plainl}-  with  3'ou.  But  do  not  be  more 
Huguenot  than  Messieurs  de  Colign3'.  Never  draw 
3'Our  sword  ;  be  a  pen  man  ;  keep  to  3'our  future  role  of 


CatMrine  de'  Medici.  87 

lawyer.  Now,  then,  tell  me  nothing  until  after  you 
have  succeeded.  If  I  do  not  hear  from  you  by  the 
fourth  day  after  you  reach  Blois,  that  silence  will  tell 
me  that  you  are  in  some  danger.  The  old  man  will  go 
to  save  the  younoj  one.  I  have  not  sold  furs  for 
thirtj'-two  years  without  a  good  knowledge  of  the 
wrono:  side  of  court  robes.  I  have  the  means  of  mak- 
ing  my  way  through  many  doors." 

Christophe  opened  his  ej'es  very  wide  as  he  heard 
his  father  talking  thus ;  but  he  thought  there  might  be 
some  parental  trap  in  it,  and  he  made  no  reply  further 
than  to  sa}' :  — 

''  Well,  make  out  the  bill,  and  write  a  letter  to  the 
queen  ;  I  must  start  at  once,  or  the  greatest  misfortunes 
ma}^  happen." 

''Start?     How?" 

*'  I  shall  buy  a  horse.  Write  at  once,  in  God's 
name." 

''Hey!  mother!  give  your  son  some  money,"  cried 
the  furrier  to  his  wife. 

The  mother  returned,  went  to  her  chest,  took  out  a 
purse  of  gold,  and  gave  it  to  Christophe,  who  kissed 
her  with  emotion. 

"  The  bill  was  all  ready,"  said  his  father ;  "  here  it 
is.     I  will  write  the  letter  at  once." 

Christophe  took  the  bill  and  put  it  in  his  pocket. 
•  "  But  you  will  sup  with  us,  at  an}'  rate,"  said  the  old 
man.     "  In  such  a  crisis  you  ought  to  exchange  rings 
with  Lallier's  daughter." 

"  Very  well,  I  will  go  and  fetch  her,"  said  Christophe. 

The  young  man  was  distrustful  of  his  father's  stability 
in  the  matter.      The  old  man's  character  was  not  yet 


88  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

fully  known  to  him.  He  ran  up  to  his  room,  dressed 
himself,  took  a  valise,  came  downstairs  softly  and  laid 
it  on  a  counter  in  the  shop,  together  with  his  rapier  and 
cloak. 

"What  the  devil  are  you  doing?"  asked  his  father, 
hearing  him. 

Christophe  came  up  to  the  old  man  and  kissed  him  on 
both  cheeks. 

"  I  don*t  want  an}^  one  to  see  my  preparations  for 
departure,  and  I  have  put  them  on  a  counter  in  the 
shop,"  he  whispered. 

''  Here  is  the  letter,'*  said  his  father. 

Christophe  took  the  paper  and  went  out  as  if  to  fetch 
his  young  neighbor. 

A  few  moments  after  his  departure  the  goodman  Lal- 
lier  and  his  daughter  arrived,  preceded  by  a  servant- 
woman,  bearing  three  bottles  of  old  wine. 

"  Well,  where  is  Christophe?"  said  old  Lecamus. 

''Christophe!"  exclaimed  Babette.  "  We  have  not 
seen  him." 

"  Ha  !  ha !  m}^  son  is  a  bold  scamp  !  He  tricks  me 
as  if  I  had  no  beard.  My  dear  crony,  what  think  you 
he  will  turn  out  to  be  ?  AVe  live  in  days  when  the  chil- 
dren have  more  sense  than  their  fathers." 

"  Wh}^,  the  quarter  has  long  been  saying  he  is  in  some 
mischief,"  said  Lallier. 

"  Excuse  him  on  that  point,  cron}',"  said  the  furrier. 
"  Youth  is  foolish ;  it  runs  after  new  things  ;  but  Ba- 
bette will  keep  him  quiet :  she  is  newer  than  Calvin." 

''Babette  smiled;  she  loved  Christophe,  and  was 
angr}'  when  anything  was  said  against  him.  She  was 
one  of  those  daughters  of  the  old  bourgeoisie  brought 


Catherine  cle   Medici.  89 

up  under  the  eyes  of  a  mother  who  never  left  her.  Her 
bearing  was  gentle  and  correct  as  her  face ;  she  alwa3s 
wore  woollen  stuffs  of  gray,  harmonious  in  tone  ;  her  che- 
misette, simply  pleated,  contrasted  its  whiteness  against 
the  gown.  Her  cap  of  brown  velvet  was  like  an  infant's 
coif,  but  it  was  trimmed  with  a  ruche  and  lappets  of 
tanned  gauze,  that  is,  of  a  tan  color,  which  came  down 
on  each  side  of  her  face.  Though  fair  and  white  as  a 
true  blonde,  she  seemed  to  be  shrewd  and  roguish,  all 
the  while  trying  to  hide  her  roguishness  under  the  air 
and  manner  of  a  well-trained  girl.  While  the  two 
servant-women  went  and  came,  laying  the  cloth  and 
placing  the  jugs,  the  great  pewter  dishes,  and  the  knives 
and  forks,  the  jeweller  and  his  daughter,  the  furrier  and 
his  wife,  sat  before  the  tall  chimney-piece  draped  with 
lambrequins  of  red  serge  and  black  fringes,  and  were 
talking  of  trifles.  Babette  asked  once  or  twice  where 
Christophe  could  be,  and  the  father  and  mother  of  the 
young  Huguenot  gave  evasive  answers  ;  but  when  the 
two  families  were  seated  at  table,  and  the  two  servants 
had  retired  to  the  kitchen,  Lecamus  said  to  his  future 
daughter-in-law :  — 

**  Christophe  has  gone  to  court." 

"  To  Blois  !  Such  a  journey  as  that  without  bidding 
me  good-bye  !  "  she  said. 

**The  matter  was  pressing,"  said  the  old  mother. 

'^Cron}',"  said  the  fiirrier,  resuming  a  suspended 
conversation.  "  We  are  going  to  have  troublous 
times  in  France.  The  Reformers  are  bestirrinor  them- 
selves." 

"  If  they  triumph,  it  will  only  be  after  a  long  war, 
during   which    business  will   be   at  a  standstill,'*  said 


90  Catherine  cW  Medici. 

Lallier,  incapable  of  rising  higher  than  the  commercial 
sphere. 

"  My  father,  who  saw  the  wars  between  the  Burgun- 
dians  and  the  Armagnacs  told  me  that  our  family  would 
never  have  come  out  safe!}'  if  one  of  his  grandfathers  — 
his  mother's  father  —  had  not  been  a  Goix,  one  of 
those  famous  butchers  in  the  Market  who  stood  by  the 
Burgundians ;  whereas  the  other,  the  Lecamus,  was  for 
the  Armagnacs  ;  the}'  seemed  readj'  to  flay  each  other 
alive  before  the  world,  but  the}"  were  excellent  friends 
in  the  familj'.  So,  let  us  both  try  to  save  Christophe  ; 
perhaps  the  time  ma}'  come  when  he  will  save  us.'* 

'^  You  are  a  shrewd  one,"  said  the  jeweller. 

"  No,"  replied  Lecamus.  ''  The  burghers  ought 
to  think  of  themselves ;  the  populace  and  the  nobility 
are  both  against  them.  The  Parisian  bourgeoisie 
alarms  everybody  except  the  king,  who  knows  it  is  his 
friend. 

*'  You  who  are  so  wise  and  have  seen  so  many 
things,"  said  Babette,  timidly,  "  explain  to  me  what  the 
Reformers  really  want." 

"Yes,  tell  us  that,  crony,"  cried  the  jeweller.  "I 
knew  the  late  king's  tailor,  and  I  held  him  to  be  a  man 
of  simple  life,  without  great  talent;  be  was  something 
like  you ;  a  man  to  whom  they  'd  give  the  sacrament 
without  confession ;  and  behold !  he  plunged  to  the 
depths  of  this  new  religion,  —  he  !  a  man  whose  two  ears 
were  worth  all  of  a  hundred  thousand  crowns  apiece. 
He  must  have  had  secrets  to  reveal  to  induce  the  king 
and  the  Duchesse  de  Valentinois  to  be  present  at  his 
torture. '^ 

*' And  terrible  secrets,  too!'*  said  the  furrier,  *^The 


I 


Catherine  de    Medici  91 


l^leformation,  m}^  friends,"  he  continued  in  a  low  voice, 

1™^'  will  o'ive  back  to  the  bourgeoisie  the  estates  of  the 
Church.  AVhen  the  ecclesiastical  privileges  are  sup- 
pressed the  Reformers  intend  to  ask  that  the  vilain 
tax  shall  be  imposed  on  nobles  as  well  as  on  burghers, 
and  thev  mean  to  insist  that  the  kin^  alone  shall  be 
above  others  —  if  indeed,  they  allow  the  State  to  have 
a  king." 

Ill    "  Suppress  the  Throne  ! ''  ejaculated  Lallier. 

"  Hey  !  crony,"  said  Lecamus,  **  in  the  Low  Countries 
the  burghers  srovern  themselves  with  burgomasters  of 
their  own,  who  elect  their  own  temporary  head." 

^  ''  God  bless  me,  crony ;  we  ought  to  do  these  fine 
things  and  3'et  stay  Catholics,"  cried  the  jeweller. 

^  "We  are  too  old,  you  and  I,  to  see  the  triumph  of 
the  Parisian  bourgeoisie,  but  it  will  triumph,  I  tell  you, 
in  times  to  come  as  it  did  of  vore.  Ha  !  the  king  must 
rest  upon  it  in  order  to  resist,  and  we  have  always  sold 
him  our  help  dear.  The  last  time,  all  the  burghers  were 
ennobled,  and  he  gave  them  permission  to  buy  seigno- 
rial  estates  and  take  titles  from  the  land  without 
special  letters  from  the  king.  You  and  I,  grandsons 
of  the  Goix  through  our  mothers,  are  not  we  as  good 
as  an}'  lord?" 

These  words  were  so  alarming  to  the  jeweller  and  the 
two  women  that  they  were  followed  by  a  dead  silence. 
The  ferments  of  1789  were  already'  tingling  in  the  veins 
of  Lecamus,  who  was  not  vet  so  old  but  what  he  could 
live  to  see  the  bold  burghers  of  the  Ligue. 

"Are  you  selling  well  in  spite  of  these  troubles?'' 
said  Lallier  to  Mademoiselle  Lecamus. 
'^  Troubles  always  do  harm,"  she  replied. 


92  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

"  That 's  one  reason  why  I  am  so  set  on  making  ray 
son  a  law3'er,"  said  Lecamus  ;  *'  for  squabbles  and  law 
go  on  forever." 

The  conversation  then  turned  to  commonplace  topics, 
to  the  great  satisfaction  of  the  jeweller,  who  was  not 
fond  of  either  political  troubles  or  audacity  of  thought. 


Catherine  d^  Medici,  93 


III. 

THE   CHATEAU   DE    BLOTS. 

The  banks  of  the  Loire,  from  Blois  to  Angers,  were 
the  favorite  resort  of  the  last  two  branches  of  tlie  royal 
race  which  occupied  the  throne  before  the  house  of 
Bourbon.  That  beautiful  valle}'  plain  so  well  deserves 
the  honor  bestowed  upon  it  by  kings  that  we  must 
here  repeat  what  was  said  of  it  by  one  of  our  most 
eloquent  writers :  — 

"  There  is  one  province  in  France  which  is  never  sufficiently 
admired.  Fragrant  as  Italy,  flowery  as  the  banks  of  the 
Guadalquivir,  beautiful  especially  in  its  own  characteristics, 
wholly  French,  having  always  been  French,  —  unlike  in  that 
respect  to  our  northern  provinces,  which  have  degenerated 
by  contact  with  Germany,  and  to  our  southern  provinces, 
which  have  lived  in  concubinage  with  Moors,  Spaniards, 
and  all  other  nationalities  that  adjoined  them.  This  pure, 
chaste,  brave,  and  loyal  province  is  Touraine.  Historic 
France  is  there  !  Auvergne  is  Auvergne,  Languedoc  is  only 
Languedoc ;  but  Touraine  is  France ;  the  most  national  river 
for  Frenchmen  is  the  Loire,  which  waters  Touraine.  For 
this  reason  we  ought  not  to  be  surprised  at  the  great  num- 
ber of  historically  noble  buildings  possessed  by  those  de- 
partments which  have  taken  the  name,  or  deiivations  of 
the  name,  of  the  Loire.  At  every  step  we  take  in  this  land 
of  enchantment  we  discover  a  new  picture,  bordered,  it  may 
be,  by  a  river,  or  a  tranquil  lake  reflecting  in  its  liquid  depths 
a  castle  with  towers,  and  woods  and  sparkling  waterfalls. 


94  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

It  is  quite  natural  that  in  a  region  chosen  by  Royalty  for  its 
sojourn,  where  the  court  was  long  established,  great  families 
and  fortunes  and  distinguished  men  should  have  settled  and 
built  palaces  as  grand  as  themselves." 

But  is  it  not  incomprehensible  that  Royalty  did  not 
follow  the  advice  indirectly'  given  by  Louis  XI.  to 
place  the  capital  of  the  kingdom  at  Tours?  There, 
without  great  expense,  the  Loire  might  have  been 
made  accessible  for  the  merchant  service,  and  also  for 
vessels-of-war  of  light  draught.  There,  too,  the  seat 
of  government  would  have  been  safe  from  the  dangers 
of  invasion.  Had  this  been  done,  the  northern  cities 
would  not  have  required  such  vast  sums  of  money 
spent  to  fortify  them,  —  sums  as  vast  as  were  those 
expended  on  the  sumptuous  glories  of  Versailles.  If 
Louis  XIV.  had  listened  to  Vauban,  who  wished  to 
build  his  great  palace  at  Mont  Louis,  between  the 
Loire  and  the  Cher,  perhaps  the  revolution  of  1789 
might  never  have  taken  place. 

These  beautiful  shores  still  bear  the  marks  of  royal 
tenderness.  The  chfiteaus  of  Chambord,  Amboise,  Blois, 
Chenonceaux,  Chaumont,  Plessis-les-Tours,  all  those 
which  the  mistresses  of  kings,  financiers,  and  nobles  built 
at  Veretz,  Azay-le-Rideau,  Usse,  Villandri,  Valenqa}', 
Chanteloup,  Duretal,  some  of  which  have  disappeared, 
though  most  of  them  still  remain,  are  admirable  relics 
which  remind  us  of  the  marvels  of  a  period  that  is 
little  understood  by  the  literar}'  sect  of  the  Middle- 
agists. 

Among  all  these  ch^teaus,  that  of  Blois,  where  the 
court  was  then  staying,  is  one  on  which  the  magnifi- 
cence of  the  houses  of  Orleans  and  of  Valois  has  placed 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  95 

y 

its  brilliant  sign-manual,  —  making  it  the  most  interest- 
ing of  all  for  historians,  archaeologists,  and  Catholics. 
It  was  at  the  time  of  which  we  write  completely  iso- 
lated. The  tow^n,  inclosed  b}^  massive  walls  supported 
by  towers,  lay  below  the  fortress,  —  for  the  chateau 
served,  in  fact,  as  fort  and  pleasure-house.  Above 
the  town,  with  its  blue-tiled,  crowded  roofs  extending 
then,  as  now,  from  the  river  to  the  crest  of  the  hill 
which  commands  the  right  bank,  lies  a  triangular  pla- 
teau, bounded  to  the  west  by  a  streamlet,  which  in 
these  days  is  of  no  importance,  for  it  flows  beneath  the 
town ;  but  in  the  fifteenth  centur}',  so  sa}'  historians,  it 
formed  quite  a  deep  ravine,  of  which  there  still  remains 
a  sunken  road,  almost  an  abyss,  between  the  suburbs 
of  the  town  and  the  chateau. 

It  was  on  this  plateau,  with  a  double  exposure  to  the 
north  and  south,  that  the  counts  of  Blois  built,  in 
the  architecture  of  the  twelfth  century,  a  castle  where 
the  famous  Thibault  le  Tricheur,  Thibault  le  Vieux, 
and  others  held  a  celebrated  court.  In  those  da3*s  of 
pure  feudality,  in  which  the  king  w^as  merely  priinifs 
inter  pares  (to  use  the  fine  expression  of  a  king  of 
Poland),  the  counts  of  Champagne,  the  counts  of  Blois, 
tiiose  ofAnjou,  the  simple  barons  of  Normandie,  the 
dukes  of  Bretagne,  lived  with  the  splendor  of  sovereign 
princes  and  gave  kings  to  the  proudest  kingdoms.  The 
Plantagenets  of  Anjou,  the  Lusignans  of  Poitou,  the 
Roberts  of  Normandie,  maintained  with  a  bold  hand 
the  royal  races,  and  sometimes  simple  knights  like 
du  Glaicquin  refused  the  purple,  preferring  the  sword 
of  a  conn 8 table. 

AVhen  the  Crown  annexed  the  count}'  of  Blois  to  its 


9G  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

domain,  Louis  XII.,  who  had  a  liking  for  this  resi- 
dence (perhaps  to  escape  Plessis  of  sinister  memory), 
built  at  the  back  of  the  first  building  another  building, 
facing  east  and  west,  which  connected  the  chateau  of 
the  counts  of  Blois  with  the  rest  of  the  old  structures, 
of  which  nothing  now  remains  but  the  vast  hall  in 
which  the  States-general  were  held  under  Henri  III. 

Before  he  became  enamoured  of  Chambord,  Fran- 
qois  1.  wished  to  complete  the  chateau  of  Blois  by 
adding  two  other  wings,  which  would  have  made  the 
structure  a  perfect  square.  But  Chambord  weaned 
him  from  Blois,  where  he  built  only  one  wing,  which 
in  his  time  and  that  of  his  grandchildren  was  the  only 
inhabited  part  of  the  chateau.  This  third  building 
erected  b}'  Francois  I.  is  more  vast  and  far  more  deco- 
rated than  the  Louvre,  the  chtUeau  of  Henri  II.  It 
is  in  the  style  of  architecture  now  called  Renaissance, 
and  presents  the  most  fantastic  features  of  that  st3'le. 
Therefore,  at  a  period  when  a  strict  and  jealous  archi- 
tecture ruled  construction,  when  the  Middle  Ages  were 
not  even  considered,  at  a  time  when  literature  was  not 
as  clearly  wedded  to  art  as  it  is  now,  La  Fontaine  said 
of  the  chateau  de  Blois,  in  his  hearty,  good-humored  way: 
*'  The  part  that  Frangois  I.  built,  if  looked  at  from  the 
outside,  pleased  me  better  than  all  the  rest ;  there  I  saw 
numbers  of  little  galleries,  little  windows,  little  balco- 
nies, little  ornamentations  without  order  or  regularity, 
and  thej^  make  up  a  grand  whole  which  I  like." 

The  chateau  of  Blois  had,  therefore,  the  merit  of 
representing  three  orders  of  architecture,  three  epochs, 
three  systems,  three  dominions.  Perhaps  there  is  no 
other  royal  residence  that  can  compare  with  it  in  that 


Catherine  cle^  Medici.  97 


respect.  This  immense  structure  presents  to  the  eye 
in  one  inclosure,  round  one  courtyard,  a  complete  and 
perfect  image  of  that  grand  presentation  of  the  man- 
ners and  customs  and  Ufe  of  nations  which  is  called 
Architecture.  At  the  moment  when  Christophe  was  to 
visit  the  court,  that  part  of  the  adjacent  land  which  in 
our  day  is  covered  by  a  fourth  palace,  built  seventy 
years  later  (by  Gaston,  the  rebellious  brother  of  Louis 
XIII.,  then  exiled  to  Blois),  was  an  open  space  contain- 
ing pleasure-grounds  and  hanging  gardens,  pictur- 
esquely placed  among  the  battlements  and  unfinished 
turrets  of  Francois  l.'s  chateau. 

These  gardens  communicated,  by  a  bridge  of  a  fine, 
bold  construction  (which  the  old  men  of  Blois  may  still 
remember  to  have  seen  demolished)  with  a  pleasure- 
ground  on  the  other  side  of  the  chateau,  which,  by  the 
lay  of  the  land,  was  on  the  same  level.  The  nobles 
attached  to  the  Court  of  Anne  de  Bretagne,  or  those 
of  that  province  who  came  to  solicit  favors,  or  to  con- 
fer with  the  queen  as  to  the  fate  and  condition  of  Brit- 
tany, awaited  in  this  pleasure-ground  the  opportunit}^ 
for  an  audience,  either  at  the  queen's  rising,  or  at  her 
coming  out  to  walk.  Consequentl}^  history  has  given 
the  name  of  ''Perchoir  aux  Bretons''  to  this  piece  of 
ground,  which,  in  our  day,  is  the  fruit-garden  of  a 
worthy  bourgeois,  and  forms  a  projection  into  the  place 
Des  Jesuites.  The  latter  place  was  included  in  the 
gardens  of  this  beautiful  royal  residence,  which  had,  as 
we  have  said,  its  upper  and  its  lower  gardens.  Not 
far  from  the  place  des  Jesuites  may  still  be  seen  a 
pavilion  built  by  Catherine  de'  Medici,  where,  accord- 
ing to  the  historians  of  Blois,  warm  mineral  baths  were 

7 


08  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

placed  for  her  use.  This  detail  enables  us  to  trace  the 
very  irregular  disposition  of  the  gardens,  which  went 
up  or  down  according  to  the  undulations  of  the  ground, 
becoming  extremely  intricate  around  the  chateau,  —  a 
fact  which  helped  to  give  it  strength,  and  caused,  as  we 
shall  see,  the  discomfiture  of  the  Due  de  Guise. 

The  gardens  were  reached  from  the  chdteau  through 
external  and  internal  galleries,  the  most  important  of 
which  was  called  the  "  Galerie  des  Cerfs"on  account 
of  its  decoration.  This  gallerj'  led  to  the  magnificent 
staircase  which,  no  doubt,  inspired  the  famous  double 
staircase  of  Chambord.  It  led,  from  floor  to  floor,  to 
all  the  apartments  of  the  castle. 

Though  La  Fontaine  preferred  the  chateau  of  Fran- 
cois I.  to  that  of  Louis  XIL,  perhaps  the  naivete  of 
that  of  the  good  king  will  give  true  artists  more 
pleasure,  while  at  the  same  time  thej'  admire  the  mag- 
nificent structure  of  the  knighth'  king.  The  elegance 
of  the  two  staircases  which  are  placed  at  each  end  of 
the  chateau  of  Louis  XII.,  the  delicate  carving  and 
sculpture,  so  original  in  design,  which  abound  every- 
where, the  remains  of  which,  though  time  has  done  its 
worst,  still  charm  the  antiquary-,  all,  even  to  the  semi- 
cloistral  distribution  of  the  apartments,  reveals  a  great 
simplicity  of  manners.  Evidently,  the  court  did  not 
yet  exist ;  it  had  not  developed,  as  it  did  under  Fran- 
cois I.  and  Catherine  de'  Medici,  to  the  great  detriment 
of  feudal  customs.  As  we  admire  the  galleries,  or 
most  of  them,  the  capitals  of  the  columns,  and  certain 
figurines  of  exquisite  delicacy,  it  is  impossible  not  to 
imagine  that  Michel  Columb,  that  great  sculptor,  the 
Michel-Angelo  of  Brittany,   passed  that  way   for  the 


Catherine  d^  Medici,  99 

pleasure  of  Queen  Anne,  whom  he  afterwards  im- 
mortalized on  the  tomb  of  her  father,  the  last  duke  of 
Brittan}'. 

Whatever  La  Fontaine  may  choose  to  sa}'  about  the 
*^  little  galleries  "  and  the  *'  little  ornamentations/'  nothing 
can  be  more  grandiose  than  the  dwelling  of  the  splen- 
did Francois.  Thanks  to  I  know  not  what  indifference, 
to  forgetfulness  perhaps,  the  apartments  occupied  by 
Catherine  de'  Medici  and  her  son  Frau9ois  II.  present 
to  us  to-dav  the  leading  features  of  that  time.  The 
historian  can  there  restore  the  tragic  scenes  of  the 
drama  of  the  Reformation,  —  a  drama  in  which  the  dual 
struggle  of  the  Guises  and  of  the  Bourbons  against  the 
Valois  was  a  series  of  most  complicated  acts,  the  plot 
of  which  was  here  unravelled. 
»  The  chateau  of  Frangois  I.  completel}^  crushes  the 
artless  habitation  of  Louis  XII.  by  its  imposing  masses. 
On  the  side  of  the  gardens,  that  is,  toward  the  modern 
place  des  Jesuites,  the  castle  presents  an  elevation 
nearl}"  double  that  which  it  shows  on  the  side  of  the 
courtyard.  The  ground-floor  on  this  side  forms  the 
second  floor  on  the  side  of  the  gardens,  where  are 
placed  the  celebrated  galleries.  Thus  the  first  floor 
above  the  ground-floor  toward  the  courtyard  (where 
Queen  Catherine  was  lodged)  is  the  third  floor  on  the 
garden  side,  and  the  king's  apartments  w^ere  four 
storey's  above  the  garden,  which  at  the  time  of  which  we 
write  was  separated  from  the  base  of  the  castle  bj-  a 
deep  moat.  The  chateau,  already  colossal  as  viewed 
from  the  courtyard,  appears  gigantic  when  seen  from 
below,  as  La  Fontaine  saw  it.  He  mentions  particu- 
larly that  he  did  not  enter  either  the  courtyard  or  the 


100  Catherine  cle'  Medici, 

apartments,  and  it  is  to  be  remarked  that  from  the 
place  des  Jesuites  all  the  details  seem  small.  The  bal- 
conies on  which  the  courtiers  promenaded ;  the  gal- 
leries, marvellously  executed  ;  the  sculptured  windows, 
whose  embrasures  are  so  deep  as  to  form  boudoirs  — 
for  which  indeed  they  served  —  resemble  at  that  great 
height  the  fantastic  decorations  which  scene-painters 
give  to  a  fairy  palace  at  the  opera. 

But  in  the  courtyard,  although  the  three  storeys 
above  the  ground-floor  rise  as  high  as  the  clock-tower 
of  the  Tuileries,  the  infinite  delicac}"  of  the  architecture 
reveals  itself  to  the  rapture  of  our  astonished  eyes. 
This  wing  of  the  great  building,  in  which  the  two 
queens,  Catherine  de'  Medici  and  Mary  Stuart,  held 
tlieir  sumptuous  court,  is  divided  in  the  centre  by  a 
hexagon  tower,  in  the  empty  well  of  which  winds  up  a 
spiral  staircase,  —  a  Moorish  caprice,  designed  by  giants, 
made  by  dwarfs,  which  gives  to  this  wonderful  facade 
the  effect  of  a  dream.  The  baluster  of  this  staircase 
forms  a  spiral  connecting  itself  b}^  a  square  landing  to 
five  of  the  six  sides  of  the  tower,  requiring  at  each 
landing  transversal  corbels  which  are  decorated  with 
arabesque  carvings  without  and  within.  This  bewilder- 
ing creation  of  ingenious  and  delicate  details,  of  mar- 
vels which  give  speech  to  stones,  can  be  compared 
onl}'  to  the  deeply  worked  and  crowded  carving  of  the 
Chinese  ivories.  Stone  is  made  to  look  like  lace-work. 
The  flowers,  the  figures  of  men  and  animals  clinging  to 
the  structure  of  the  stairway,  are  multiplied,  step  by 
step,  until  the}'  crown  the  tower  with  a  keN'-stone  on 
which  the  chisels  of  the  art  of  the  sixteenth  century 
have  contended  against  the  naive  cutters  of  images  who 


Catherine^  d^'-  'MedicL  101 

fiftv  years  earlier  had  tiarvGcl  the^  fev-!§tohes*  of  Lbuis 
XII.'s  two  stairways. 

However  dazzled  we  ma}'  be  by  these  recurring  forms 
of  indefatigable  labor,  we  cannot  fail  to  see  that  money 
was  lacking  to  Francois  I.  for  Blois,  as  it  was  to  Lonis 
XIV.  for  Versailles.  More  than  one  fiofurine  hfts  its 
delicate  head  from  a  block  of  rough  stone  behind  it ; 
more  than  one  fantastic  flower  is  merely'  indicated  by 
chiselled  touches  on  the  abandoned  stone,  though  damp- 
ness has  since  laid  its  blossoms  of  mouldy  orreenery 
upon  it.  On  the  fagade,  side  by  side  with  the  tracery 
of  one  window,  another  window  presents  its  masses  of 
jagged  stone  caryed  only  by  the  hand  of  time.  Here, 
to  the  least  artistic  and  the  least  trained  eye,  is  a  ray- 
ishing  contrast  between  this  frontage,  where  maryels 
throng,  and  the  interior  frontage  of  the  chateau  of 
Louis  XII.,  which  is  composed  of  a  ground-floor  of 
arcades  of  fairy  lightness  supported  by  tin}'  columns 
resting  at  their  base  on  a  graceful  platform,  and  of  two 
storeys  above  it,  the  windows  of  which  are  carved  with 
delightful  sobriet}'.  Beneath  the  arcade  is  a  gallery,  the 
walls  of  which  are  painted  in  fresco,  the  ceiling  also 
being  painted  ;  traces  can  still  be  found  of  this  mag- 
nificence, derived  from  Italy,  and  testifying  to  the  expe- 
ditions of  our  kings,  to  which  the  principality  of  Milan 
then  belonged. 

Opposite  to  Francois  I.'s  wing  was  the  chapel  of  the 
•counts  of  Blois,  the  facade  of  which  is  almost  in  har- 
mony with  the  architecture  of  the  later  dwelling  of 
Louis  XII.  No  words  can  picture  the  majestic  solidity 
of  these  three  distinct  masses  of  building.  In  spite  of 
their  nonconformity  of  style,  Royalty,  powerful  and  firm, 


102  -Oatherine.de*  Medici, 

demonstraiiiig  its  clangors  b}^  the  greatness  of  its  precau- 
tions, was  a  bond,  uniting  these  three  edifices,  so  different 
in  character,  two  of  wliich  rested  against  the  vast  hall 
of  the  States-general,  towering  high  like  a  church. 

Certainlj',  neither  the  simplicitj'  nor  the  strength  of 
the  burgher  existence  (which  were  depicted  at  the  be- 
ginning of  this  history)  in  which  Art  was  always  repre- 
sented, were  lacking  to  this  royal  habitation.  Blois 
was  the  fruitful  and  brilliant  example  to  which  the 
Bourgeoisie  and  Feudality,  Wealth  and  Nobilit}',  gave 
such  splendid  replies  in  the  towns  and  in  the  rural 
"regions.  Imagination  could  not  desire  any  other  sort 
of  dwelling  for  the  prince  who  reigned  over  France  in 
the  sixteenth  centurj'.  The  richness  of  seignorial  gar- 
ments, the  luxury  of  female  adornment,  must  have  har- 
monized delightfully  with  the  lace-work  of  these  stones 
so  wonderful!}'  manipulated.  From  floor  to  floor,  as  the 
king  of  France  went  up  the  marvellous  staircase  of  his 
chateau  of  Blois,  he  could  see  the  broad  expanse  of  the 
beautiful  Loire,  which  brought  him  news  of  all  his  king- 
dom as  it  lay  on  either  side  of  the  great  river,  two 
halves  of  a  State  facing  each  other,  and  semi-rivals.  If, 
instead  of  building  Chambord  in  a  barren,  gloomy  plain 
two  leagues  awa}',  Fran9ois  I.  had  placed  it  where, 
seventy  years  later,  Gaston  built  his  palace,  Versailles 
would  never  have  existed,  and  Blois  would  have  become, 
necessarily,  the  capital  of  France. 

Four  Valois  and  Catherine  de' Medici  lavished  their 
wealth  on  the  wing  built  b}^  Fran9ois  I.  at  Blois.  Who 
can  look  at  those  massive  partition- walls,  the  spinal 
column  of  the  castle,  in  which  are  sunken  deep  alcoves, 
secret  staircases,  cabinets,  while  they  themselves  inclose 


Catherine  do    Medici,  103 

halls  as  vast  as  that  great  council-room,  the  guardroom, 
and  the  royal  chambers,  in  which,  in  our  day,  a  regi- 
ment of  infantry  is  comfortably  lodged  —  who  can  look 
at  all  this  and  not  be  aware  of  the  prodigalities  of  Crown 
and  court?  Even  if  a  visitor  does  not  at  once  under- 
stand how  the  splendor  within  must  have  corresponded 
with  the  splendor  without,  the  remaining  vestiges  of 
Catherine  de*  Medici's  cabinet,  where  Christophe  was 
about  to  be  introduced,  would  bear  sufficient  testimony 
to  the  elegances  of  Art  which  peopled  these  apartments 
with  animated  designs  in  which  salamanders  sparkled 
among  the  wreaths,  and  the  palette  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury illumined  the  darkest  corners  with  its  brilliant 
coloring.  In  this  cabinet  an  observer  will  still  find 
traces  of  that  taste  for  gilding  which  Catherine  brought 
with  her  from  Italy  ;  for  the  princesses  of  her  house 
loved,  in  the  words  of  the  author  already  quoted,  to 
veneer  the  castles  of  France  with  the  gold  earned  bv 
their  ancestors  in  commerce,  and  to  hang  out  their 
wealth  on  the  walls  of  their  apartments. 

The  queen-mother  occupied  on  the  first  upper  floor 
the  apartments  of  Queen  Claude  of  France,  wife  of 
Fran9ois  I.,  in  which  may  still  be  seen,  dehcately 
carved,  the  double  C  accompanied  by  figures,  purely 
white,  of  swans  and  lilies,  signifying  candkllor  ccuidi- 
clis  —  more  white  than  the  whitest  —  the  motto  of  the 
queen  whose  name  began,  like  that  of  Catherine,  with  a 
C,  and  which  applied  as  well  to  the  daughter  of  Louis 
XJI.  as  to  the  mother  of  the  last  Valois ;  for  no  sus- 
picion, in  spite  of  the  violence  of  Calvinist  calumnj', 
has  tarnished  the  fidelity  of  Catherine  de' Medici  to 
Henri  II. 


104  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

The  queen-mother,  still  charged  with  the  care  of  two 
3'ourig  children  (him  who  was  afterward  Due  d'Alengon, 
and  Marguerite,  the  wife  of  Henri  IV.,  the  sister  whom 
Charles  IX.  called  Margot),  had  need  of  the  whole  of 
this  first  upper  floor. 

The  king,  Francois  II.,  and  the  queen,  Mary  Stuart, 
occupied,  on  the  second  floor,  the  ro3'al  apartments 
which  had  formerl}^  been  those  of  FranQois  I.  and  were, 
subsequent^,  those  of  Henri  III.  This  floor,  like  that 
taken  b}'  the  queen-mother,  is  divided  in  two  parts 
throughout  its  whole  length  b}"  the  famous  partition- 
wall,  which  is  more  than  four  feet  thick,  against  which 
rests  the  enormous  walls  which  separate  the  rooms  from 
each  other.  ■  Thus,  on  both  floors,  the  apartments  are 
in  two  distinct  halves.  One  half,  to  the  south,  looking 
to  the  courtyard,  served  for  public  receptions  and  for  the 
transaction  of  business  ;  whereas  the  private  apartments 
were  placed,  partly  to  escape  the  heat,  to  the  north, 
overlooking  the  gardens,  on  which  side  is  the  splendid 
fa9ade  with  its  balconies  and  galleries  looking  out  upon 
the  open  country'  of  the  Vendomois,  and  down  upon  the 
"  Perchoir  des  Bretons"  and  the  moat,  the  only  side  of 
which  La  Fontaine  speaks. 

The  chateau  of  Franqois  I.  was,  in  those  days,  ter- 
minated by  an  enormous  unfinished  tower  which  was 
intended  to  mark  the  colossal  angle  of  the  building 
when  the  succeeding  wing  was  built.  Later,  Gaston 
took  down  one  side  of  it,  in  order  to  build  his  palace  on 
to  it ;  but  he  never  finished  the  work,  and  the  tower 
remained  in  ruins.  This  royal  stronghold  served  as  a 
prison  or  dungeon,  according  to  popular  tradition. 

As  we  wander  to-day  through  the  halls  of  this  match- 


i 


Catherine  de*  Medici.  105 


ess  chateau,  so  precious  to  art  and  to  history,  what 
poet  would  not  be  haunted  by  regrets,  and  grieved  for 
France,  at  seeing  the  arabesques  of  Catherine's  boudoir 
whitewashed  and  ahnost  obliterated,  by  order  of  the 
quartermaster  of  the  barracks  (this  royal  residence  is 
now  a  barrack)  at  the  time  of  an  outbreak  of  cholera. 
The  panels  of  Catlierine's  boudoir,  a  room  of  which  we 
are  about  to  speak,  is  the  last  remaining  relic  of  the  rich 
decorations  accumulated  by  five  artistic  kings.  Mak- 
ing our  way  through  the  labyrinth  of  chambers,  halls, 
stairways,  towers,  we  may  say  to  ourselves  with  solemn 
certitude:  ''  Here  Mary  Stuart  cajoled  her  husband  on 
behalf  of  the  Guises."  "There,  the  Guises  insulted 
Catherine."  ''Later,  at  that  very  spot  the  second 
Balafre  fell  beneath  the  daggers  of  the  avengers  of  the 
Crown."  "  A  century  earlier,  from  this  very  window, 
Louis  XII.  made  signs  to  his  friend  Cardinal  d'Am- 
boise  to  come  to  him."  ''  Here,  on  this  balcon}', 
d'Epernon,  the  accomplice  of  Ravaillac,  met  Marie 
de*  Medici,  who  knew,  it  was  said,  of  the  proposed 
regicide,  and  allowed  it  to  be  committed." 

In  the  chapel,  where  the  marriage  of  Henri  IV.  and 
Marguerite  de  Valois  took  place,  the  sole  remaining 
fragment  of  the  chateau  of  the  counts  of  Blois,  a  regi- 
ment now  makes  its  shoes.  This  wonderful  structure, 
in  which  so  many  styles  may  still  be  seen,  so  many  great 
deeds  have  been  performed,  is  in  a  state  of  dilapida- 
tion which  disgraces  France.  What  grief  for  those  who 
love  the  great  historic  monuments  of  our  countrv  to 
know  that  soon  those  eloquent  stones  will  be  lost  to 
sight  and  knowledge,  like  others  at  the  corner  of  the 
rue  de  la  Vieille-Pelleterie ;  possibl}',  they  will  exist 
nowhere  but  in  these  pages. 


i 


106  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

It  is  necessary  to  remark  that,  in  order  to  watch  the 
ro\'al  court  more  closely,  the  Guises,  although  they^  had 
a  house  of  their  own  in  the  town,  which  still  exists,  had 
obtained  permission  to  occupy  the  upper  floor  above  the 
apartments  of  Louis  XII.,  the  same  lodgings  afterwards 
occupied  by  the  Duchesse  de  Nemours  under  the  roof. 

The  3'oung  king,  Fran9ois  II.,  and  his  bride  Mary 
Stuart,  in  love  with  each  other  like  the  girl  and  boy  of 
sixteen  which  they  were,  had  been  abruptly  transferred, 
in  the  depth  of  whiter,  from  the  chateau  de  Saint-Ger- 
main, which  the  Due  de  Guise  thought  liable  to  attack, 
to  the  fortress  which  the  chateau  of  Blois  then  was, 
being  isolated  and  protected  on  three  sides  by  preci- 
pices, and  admirably  defended  as  to  its  entrance.  The 
Guises,  uncles  of  Mar}'  Stuart,  had  powerful  reasons 
for  not  residing  in  Paris  and  for  keeping  the  king  and 
court  in  a  castle  the  whole  exterior  surroundings  of 
which  could  easily  be  watched  and  defended.  A  struggle 
was  now  beginning  around  the  throne,  between  the 
house  of  Lorraine  and  the  house  of  Valois,  which  was 
destined  to  end  in  this  ver}'  chA^teau,  twenty-eight  3'ears 
later,  namely  in  1588,  when  Henri  III.,  under  the  very 
e\'es  of  his  mother,  at  that  moment  deeply  humiliated 
by  the  Lorrains,  heard  fall  upon  the  floor  of  his  own 
cabinet,  the  head  of  the  boldest  of  all  the  Guises,  the 
second  Balafre,  son  of  that  first  Balafre  by  whom  Cath- 
erine de'  Medici  was  now  being  tricked,  watched, 
threatened,  and  virtuail}'  imprisoned. 


Cathei'inc  dc"  Medici, 


107 


IV. 


THE   QUEEN-MOTHER. 


This  noble  chateau   of  Blois  was  to  Catherine  de' 
[Medici  the  narrowest  of  prisons.     On  the  death  of  her 
husband,  who  had  always  held  her  in  subjection,  she 
[expected  to  reign  ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  she  found  her- 
[self  crushed   under   the  thraldom    of  strangers,  whose 
)olished  manners  were  far  more  really  brutal  than  those 
>f  jailers.     No  action  of  hers  could  be  done  secretl}'. 
'he  women  who  attended  her  either  had  lovers  among 
ihe  Guises   or  were  watched   b}'  Argus   eyes.     These 
rere  times  when  passions  notabl}'  exhibited  the  strange 
iffects  produced  in  all  ages  by  the  strong  antagonism 
>f  two  powerful  conflicting  interests  in  the  State.     Gal- 
lantry,  which  served  Catherine  so  well,   was  also  an 
Luxiliary  of  the  Guises.     The  Prince  de  Conde,  the  first 
leader  of  the  Reformation,  was  a  lover  of  the  Marechale 
le  Saint-Andre,   whose    husband  was    the   tool  of  the 
rand  Master.     The  cardinal,  convinced  by  the  affair 
>f  the  Vidame  de  Chartres,  that  Catherine  was  more 
mconquered  than  invulnerable  as  to  love,  was  paying 
"^court  to  her.     The  pla}^  of  all  these  passions  strangely 
complicated  those  of  politics,  —  making,  as  it  were,  a 
double  game  of  chess,  in  which  both  parties  had   to 
watch  the  head  and  heart  of  their  opponent,  in  order 


108  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

to  know,  wlien  a  crisis  came,  whether  the  one  would 
betray  the  other^ 

Though  she  was  constant!}^  in  presence  of  the  Cardinal 
de  Lorraine  or  of  Due  Francois  de  Guise,  who  both  dis- 
trusted her,  the  closest  and  ablest  enemy  of  Catherine 
de*  Medici  was  her  daughter-in-law,  Queen  Mary,  a  fair 
little  creature,  malicious  as  a  waiting-maid,  proud  as  a 
Stuart  wearing  three  crowns,  learned  as  an  old  pedant, 
giddy  as  a  school-girl,  as  much  in  love  with  her  hus- 
band as  a  courtesan  is  with  her  lover,  devoted  to  her 
uncles  whom  she  admired,  and  delighted  to  see  the 
king  share  (at  her  instigation)  the  regard  she  had  for 
them.  A  mother-in-law  is  always  a  person  whom  the 
daughter-in-law  is  inclined  not  to  like ;  especially  when 
she  wears  the  crown  and  wishes  to  retain  it,  which 
Catherine  had  imprudently  made  but  too  well  known. 
Her  former  position,  when  Diane  de  Poitiers  had  ruled 
Henri  II.,  was  more  tolerable  than  this;  then  at  least 
she  received  the  external  honors  that  were  due  to  a 
queen,  and  the  homage  of  the  court.  But  now  the  duke 
and  the  cardinal,  who  had  none  but  their  own  minions 
about  them,  seemed  to  take  pleasure  in  abasing  her. 
Catherine,  hemmed  in  on  all  sides  by  their  courtiers, 
received,  not  onlj^  day  b}'  day  but  from  hour  to  hour, 
terrible  blows  to  her  pride  and  her  self-love  ;  for  the 
Guises  were  determined  to  treat  her  on  the  same  sys- 
tem of  repression  which  the  late  king,  her  husband,  had 
so  long  pursued. 

The  thirty-six  3'ears  of  anguish  which  were  now  about 
to  desolate  France  ma^',  perhaps,  be  said  to  have  begun 
by  the  scene  in  which  the  son  of  the  furrier  of  the  two 
queens  was  sent  on  the  perilous  errand  which  makes 


1^-  Catherine  cle    Medici.  109 

IP 

Iiim  the  chief  figure  of  our  present  Study.  The  danger 
into  which  this  zealous  Reformer  was  about  to  fall 
became  imminent  the  \Qvy  morning  on  which  he  started 
from  the  port  of  Beaugenc}'  for  the  chateau  de  Blois, 
iHbearing  precious  documents  which  compromised  the 
highest  heads  of  the  nobilit}',  placed  in  his  hands  by 
that  wily  partisan,  the  indefatigable  La  Renaudie,  who 
met  him,  as  agreed  upon,  at  Beaugenc^',  having  reached 
that  port  before  him. 

While  the  tow-boat  in  which  Christophe  now  em- 
barked floated,  impelled  b}'  a  light  east  wind,  down  the 
Bbiver  Loire  the  famous  cardinal  Charles  de  Lorraine, 
Hind  his  brother  the  second  Due  de  Guise,  one  of  the 
greatest  warriors  of  those  days,  were  contemplating, 
like  eagles  perched  on  a  rocky  summit,  their  present 
situation,  and  looking  prudently  about  them  before 
striking  the  great  blow  hy  Tyhich  the}'  intended  to  kill 
the  Reform  in  France  at  Amboise,  —  an  attempt  re- 
newed twelve  3'ears  later  in  Paris,  August  24,  1572, 
on  the  feast  of  Saint- Bartholomew. 

During  the  night  three  seig7ieurs^  who  each  plaj'ed 
a  great  part  in  the  twelve  years'  drama  which  followed 
this  double  plot  now  laid  by  the  Guises  and  also  bj^  the 
Reformers,  had  arrived  at  Blois  from  different  directions, 
each  riding  at  full  speed,  and  leaving  their  horses  half- 
dead  at  the  postern-gate  of  the  chateau,  which  was 
guarded  by  captains  and  soldiers  absolutely  devoted  to 

■the  Due  de  Guise,  the  idol  of  all  warriors. 
I  One  word  about  that  great  man,  —  a  word  that  must 
lell,  in  the  first  instance,  whence  his  fortunes  took  their 
rise. 

His  mother  was  Antoinette  de  Bourbon,  great-annt 


I 


110  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

of  Henri  IV.  Of  what  avail  is  consanguinity?  He 
was,  at  this  moment,  aiming  at  the  head  of  his  cousin 
the  Prince  de  Conde.  His  niece  was  Mary  Stuart. 
His  wife  was  Anne,  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Ferrara. 
The  Grand  Connetable  de  Montmorency  called  the 
Due  de  Guise  '^  Monseigneur  "  as  he  would  the  king, — 
ending  his  letter  with  "  Your  very  humble  servant." 
Guise,  Grand  Master  of  the  king's  household,  replied 
"  Monsieur  le  connetable,"  and  signed,  as  he  did  for 
the  Parliament,  "  Your  verv  good  friend.'* 

As  for  the  cardinal,  called  the  transalpine  pope,  and 
his  Holiness,  bv  Estienne,  he  had  the  whole  monastic 
Church  of  France  on  his  side,  and  treated  the  Holy 
Father  as  an  equal.  Vain  of  his  eloquence,  and  one  of 
the  greatest  theologians  of  his  time,  he  kept  incessant 
watch  over  France  and  Ital}'  bv  means  of  three  religious 
orders  who  were  absolutely'  devoted  to  him,  toiling  day 
and  night  in  his  service  and  serving  him  as  spies  and 
counsellors. 

These  few  words  will  explain  to  what  heights  of 
power  the  duke  and  the  cardinal  had  attained.  In 
spite  of  their  wealth  and  the  enormous  revenues  of  their 
several  offices,  the}'  were  so  personalh'  disinterested,  so 
eagerl}'  carried  awaj'  on  the  current  of  their  statesman- 
ship, and  so  generous  at  heart,  that  the}'  were  always 
in  debt,  doubtless  after  the  manner  of  Caesar.  When 
Henri  HI.  caused  the  death  of  the  second  Balafre,  whose 
life  was  a  menace  to  him,  the  house  of  Guise  was 
necessarily  ruined.  The  costs  of  endeavoring  to  seize 
the  crown  during  a  whole  century  will  explain  the 
lowered  position  of  this  great  house  during  the  reigns 
of  Louis  XIII.  and  Louis  XIV.,  when  the  sudden  death 


I.  ^ 
of  Madame  told  all  Europe  the  infamous  part  which  a 
Chevalier  de  Lorraine  had  debased  himself  to  pla}'. 
Calling  themselves  the  heirs  of  the  dispossessed  Car- 
lovingians,  the  duke  and  cardinal  acted  with  the  utmost 
minsolence   toward  Catherine  de'  Medici,  the  mother-in- 
Hlaw  of  their  niece.     The  Duchesse  de  Guise  spared  her 
^no   mortification.      This   duchess    was   a    d'Este,    and 
Catherine  was  a  Medici,  the  daughter  of  upstart  Floren- 
tine merchants,  whom  the  sovereigns  of  Europe  had 
never  yet  admitted  into  their  royal  fraternity.     Frangois 

»I.  himself  had  alwa\^s  considered  his  son's  marriage 
with  a  Medici  as  a  mesalliance,  and  only  consented  to 
it  under  the  expectation  that  his  second  son  would 
never  be  daupliin.  Hence  his  fury  when  his  eldest 
son  was  poisoned  by  the  Florentine  Montecuculi. 
The  d'P^stes  refused  to  recognize  the  Medici  as  Italian 
princes.  Those  former  merchants  were  in  fact  trying 
to  solve  the  impossible  problem  of  maintaining  a  throne 
in  the  midst  of  i^epublican  institutions.  The  title  of 
grand-duke  was  only  granted  ver}^  tardily  b}*  Philip  the 
Second,  king  of  Spain,  to  reward  those  Medici  who 
bought  it  b}'  betraying  France  their  benefactress,  and 
servilely  attaching  themselves  to  the  court  of  Spain, 
which  was  at  the  very  time  covertly  counteracting 
them  in  Italy. 

"  Flatter  none  but  vour  enemies,"  the  famous  saving 
of  Catherine  de'  Medici,  seems  to  have  been  the  political 
rule  of  life  with  that  family  of  merchant  princes,  in 
which  great  men  were  never  lacking  until  their  destinies 
became  great,  when  the^^  fell,  before  their  time,  into 
tliat  degeneracy  in  which  royal  races  and  noble  families 
are  wont  to  end. 


112  Catherine  cW  Medici. 

For  three  generations  there  had  been  a  great  Lorrain 
warrior  and  a  great  Lorrain  churchman ;  and,  what  is 
more  singular,  the  churchmen  all  bore  a  strong  resem- 
blance in  the  face  to  Ximenes,  as  did  Cardinal  Richelieu 
in  after  days.  These  five  great  cardinals  all  had  sly, 
mean,  and  yet  terrible  faces  ;  while  the  warriors,  on  the 
other  hand,  were  of  that  type  of  Basque  mountaineer 
which  we  see  in  Henri  IV.  The  two  Balafres,  father 
and  son,  wounded  and  scarred  in  the  same  manner, 
lost  something  of  this  type,  but  not  the  grace  and  afta- 
biilt}'  by  which,  as  much  as  b}'  their  braver}',  thej'  won 
the  hearts  of  the  soldiery. 

It  is  not  useless  to  relate  how  the  present  Grand 
Master  received  his  wound ;  for  it  was  healed  by  the 
heroic  measures  of  a  personage  of  our  drama,  —  by 
Ambroise  Pare,  the  man  we  have  alread}'  mentioned 
as  under  obligations  to  Lecamus,  syndic  of  the  guild 
of  furriers.  At  the  siege  of  Calais  the  duke  had  his 
face  pierced  through  and  through  b\^*a  lance,  the  point 
of  which,  after  entering  the  cheek  just  below  the  right 
eye,  went  through  to  the  neck,  below  the  left  eye,  and 
remained,  broken  off,  in  the  face.  The  duke  lay  dying 
in  his  tent  in  the  midst  of  universal  distress,  and  he 
would  have  died  had  it  not  been  for  the  devotion  and 
prompt  courage  of  Ambroise  Pare.  ''  The  duke  is  not 
dead,  gentlemen,"  he  said  to  the  weeping  attendants, 
"•  but  he  soon  will  die  if  I  dare  not  treat  him  as  I 
would  a  dead  man ;  and  I  shall  risk  doing  so,  no  mat- 
ter what  it  ma}'  cost  me  in  the  end.  See  !  "  And  with 
that  he  put  his  left  foot  on  the  duke's  breast,  took  the 
broken  wooden  end  of  the  lance  in  his  fingers,  shook 
and  loosened  it  by  degrees  m  the  wound,  and  finally 


I 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  113 

■ 

succeeded  in  drawing  out  the  iron  head,  as  if  he  were 
IB  handling  a  thing  and  not  a  man.  Though  he  saved  the 
prince  by  this  heroic  treatment,  he  could  not  prevent 
the  horrible  scar  which  gave  the  great  soldier  his  nick- 
name,—  Le  Balafre,  the  Scarred.  This  name  descended 
to  the  son,  and  for  a  similar  reason. 

Absolutely  masters  of  Francois  II.,  whom  his  wife 
ruled  through  their  mutual  and  excessive  passion,  these 
two  great  Lorrain  princes,  the  duke  and  the  cardinal, 
were  masters  of  France,  and  had  no  other  enemy  at 
court  than  Catherine  de'  Medici.  No  great  statesmen 
ever  played  a  closer  or  more  watchful  game. 

The  mutual  position  of  the  ambitious  widow  of 
Henri  II.  and  the  ambitious  house  of  Lorraine  was 
pictured,  as  it  were,  to  the  eye  by  a  scene  which  took 
place  on  the  terrace  of  the  chateau  de  Blois  very  early 
in  the  morning  of  the  day  on  which  Christophe  Lecamus 
was  destined  to  arrive  there.  The  queen- mother,  who 
feigned  an  extreme  attachment  to  the  Guises,  had 
asked  to  be  informed  of  the  news  brought  by  the 
three  seigneurs  coming  from  three  different  parts  of 
the  kingdom  ;  but  she  had  the  mortification  of  being 
courteously  dismissed  by  the  cardinal.  She  then  walked 
to  the  parterres  which  overhung  the  Loire,  where  she 
was  building,  under  the  superintendence  of  her  astrol- 
oger, Ruggieri,  an  observatory,  which  is  still  standing, 
and  from  which  the  eye  may  range  over  the  whole 
landscape  of  that  delightful  valley.  The  two  Lorrain 
princes  were  at  the  other  end  of  the  terrace,  facing 
the  Vendomois,  which  overlooks  the  upper  part  of  the 
town,  the  perch  of  the  Bretons,  and  the  postern  gate 
of  the  chateau. 


I 


114  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

Catherine  had  deceived  the  two  brothers  by  pre- 
tending to  a  slight  displeasure ;  for  she  was  in  reaUty 
ver}'  well  pleased  to  have  an  opportunity  to  speak  to 
one  of  the  three  men  who  had  arrived  in  such  haste. 
This  was  a  young  nobleman  named  Chiverni,  appar- 
ently a  tool  of  the  cardinal,  in  reality  a  devoted  ser- 
vant of  Catherine.  Catherine  also  counted  among  her 
devoted  servants  two  Florentine  nobles,  the  Gondi ; 
but  they  were  so  suspected  by  the  Guises  that  she 
dared  not  send  them  on  any  errand  away  from  the 
court,  where  she  kept  them,  watched,  it  is  true,  in 
all  their  words  and  actions,  but  where  at  least  they 
were  able  to  watch  and  stud}'  the  Guises  and  counsel 
Catlierine.  These  two  Florentines  maintained  in  the 
interests  of  the  queen-mother  another  Italian,  Birago, — 
a  clever  Piedmontese,  who  pretended,  with  Chiverni,  to 
have  abandoned  their  mistress  and  gone  over  to  the 
Guises,  who  encouraged  their  enterprises  and  employed 
them  to  watch  Catherine. 

Chiverni  had  come-  from  Paris  and  Ecouen.  The 
last  to  arrive  was  Saint-Andre,  who  was  marshal  of 
France  and  became  so  important  that  the  Guises,  whose 
creature  he  was,  made  him  the  third  person  in  the 
triumvirate  the}'  formed  the  following  year  against 
Catherine.  The  other  seigneur  who  had  arrived  dur- 
ing the  night  was  Vieilleville,  also  a  creature  of  the 
Guises  and  a  marshal  of  France,  who  was  returning 
from  a  secret  mission  known  only  to  the  Grand  Master, 
who  had  entrusted  it  to  him.  As  for  Saint-Andre,  he 
was  in  charge  of  military  measures  taken  with  the  ob- 
ject of  driving  all  Reformers  under  arms  into  Amboise ; 
a  scheme  which  now  formed  the  subject  of  a  council 


Catherine  cW  Medici.  115 


held  by  the  duke  and  cardinal,  Birago,  Chiverni, 
Vieilleville,  and  Saint- Andre.  As  the  two  Lorrains 
emplo3'ed  Birago,  it  is  to  be  supposed  that  the}*  relied 
upon  their  own  powers ;  for  they  knew  of  his  attach- 
ment to  the  queen-mother.  At  this  singular  epoch 
the  double  part  played  by  many  of  the  poUtical  men 
of  the  day  was  well  known  to  both  parties ;  the}-  were 
like  cards  in  the  hands  of  gamblers,  —  the  cleverest 
player  won  the  game.  During  this  council  the  two 
brothers  maintained  the  most  impenetrable  reserve.  A 
conversation  which  now  took  place  between  Catherine 
and  certain  of  her  friends  will  explain  the  object  of 
this  council,  held  b}'  the  Guises  in  the  open  air,  in  the 
hanging  gardens,  at  break  of  day,  as  if  the}^  feared  to 
speak  within  the  walls  of  the  chateau  de  Blois. 

The  queen-mother,  under  pretence  of  examining  the 
observatory  then  in  process  of  construction,  walked  in 
that  direction  accompanied  by  the  two  Gondis,  glancing 
with  a  suspicious  and  inquisitive  eye  at  the  group  of 
enemies  who  were  still  standing  at  the  farther  end  of 
tlie  terrace,  and  from  whom  Chiverni  now  detached 
himself  to  join  the  queen-mother.  She  was  then  at  the 
corner  of  the  terrace  which  looks  down  upon  the  Church 
of  Saint-Nicholas ;  there,  at  least,  there  could  be  no 
danger  of  the  shghtest  overhearino;.  The  wall  of  the 
terrace  is  on  a  level  with  the  towers  of  the  church,  and 
the  Guises  invariably  held  their  council  at  the  farther 
corner  of  the  same  terrace  at  the  base  of  the  great  un- 
finished keep  or  dungeon,  —  going  and  returning  be- 
tween the  Perchoir  des  Bretons  and  the  gallery  by  the 
bridge  which  joined  them  to  the  gardens.  No  one  waa 
within  sight.     Chiverni  raised  the  hand  of  the  queen- 


I 


116  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

mother  to  kiss  it.  and  as  he  did  so  he  slipped  a  little 
note  from  his  hand  to  hers,  without  being  observed  by 
the  two  Italians.  Catherine  turned  to  the  angle  of  the 
parapet  and  read  as  follows  :  — 

You  are  powerful  enough  to  hold  the  balance  between 
the  leaders  and  to  force  them  into  a  struggle  as  to  who  shall 
serve  you  ;  your  house  is  full  of  kings,  and  you  have  nothing 
to  fear  from  the  Lorrains  or  the  Bourbons  provided  you  pit 
them  one  against  the  other,  for  both  are  striving  to  snatch 
the  crown  from  your  children.  Be  the  mistress  and  not  the 
servant  of  your  counsellors ;  support  them,  in  turn,  one 
against  the  other,  or  the  kingdom  will  go  from  bad  to  worse, 
and  mighty  wars  may  come  of  it. 

L'HOPITAL. 

The  queen  put  the  letter  in  the  hollow  of  her  corset, 
resolving  to  burn  it  as  soon  as  she  was  alone. 

"  When  did  3'ou  see  him  ?  "  she  asked  Chiverni. 

"  On  m}'  wa}'  back  from  visiting  the  Connetable,  at 
Melun,  where  I  met  him  with  the  Duchesse  de  Berry, 
whom  he  was  most  impatient  to  convey  to  Savoie,  that 
he  might  return  here  and  open  the  e^es  of  the  chan- 
cellor Olivier,  who  is  now  completely  duped  b}^  the 
Lorrains.  As  soon  as  Monsieur  I'Hopital  saw  the  true 
object  of  the  Guises  he  determined  to  support  your 
interests.  That  is  why  he  is  so  anxious  to  get  here  and 
give  you  his  vote  at  the  councils." 

*' Is  he  sincere?''  asked  Catherine.  "You  know 
very  well  that  if  the  Lorrains  have  put  him  in  the 
council  it  is  that  he  may  help  them  to  reign." 

"  L'Hopital  is  a  Frenchman  who  comes  of  too  good  a 
stock  not  to  be  honest  and  sincere,"  said  Chiverni  ; 
*'  Besides,  his  note  is  a  sufficiently  strong  pledge." 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  117 

"What  answer  did  the  Connetable  send  to  the 
Guises?" 

*'  He  replied  that  he  was  the  servant  of  the  king  and 
would  await  his  orders.  On  receiving  that  answer  the 
cardnial,  to  suppress  all  resistance,  determined  to  pro- 
pose the  appointment  of  his  brother  as  lieutenant-gen- 
eral of  the  kingdom. 

''Have  they  got  as  far  as  that?"  exclaimed  Cathe- 
rine, alarmed.  "  Well,  did  Monsieur  I'Hopital  send  me 
no  other  message  ?  " 

'*  He  told  me  to  sa\'  to  you,  madame,  that  3'ou  alone 
could  stand  between  the  Crown  and  the  Guises." 

'^  Does  he  think  that  I  ought  to  use  the  Huguenots  as 
a  weapon  ?  " 

"  Ah !  madame,"  cried  Chiverni,  surprised  at  such 
astuteness;  *'  we  never  dreamed  of  casting  3'ou  into 
such  difficulties." 

''  Does  he  know  the  position  that  I  am  in  ?  "  asked 
the  queen,  calmly. 

"  Verj'  nearly.  He  thinks  you  were  duped  after  the 
death  of  the  king  into  accepting  that  castle  on  Madame 
Diane's  overthrow.  The  Guises  consider  themselves 
released  toward  the  queen  by  having  satisfied  the 
woman." 

''  Yes,"  said  the  queen,  looking  at  the  two  Gondi, 
'•  I  made  a  blunder." 

''  A  blunder  of  the  gods,"  replied  Charles  de  Gondi. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Catherine,  '*  if  I  go  over  openly 
to  the  Reformers  I  shall  become  the  slave  of  a  party." 

"Madame,"  said  Chiverni,  eagerly,  '^I  approve 
entirely  of  your  meaning.  You  must  use  them,  but  not 
serve  them." 


118  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

*••  Though  your  support  does,  undoubtedly,  for  the 
time  being  Ue  there/'  said  Charles  de  Gondi,  ^'  we  must 
not  conceal  from  ourselves  that  success  and  defeat  are 
both  equally  perilous." 

**  I  know  It,"  said  the  queen  ;  "  a  single  false  step 
would  be  a  pretext  on  which  the  Guises  would  seize  at 
once  to  get  rid  of  me.'' 

''The  niece  of  a  pope,  the  mother  of  four  Valois,  a 
queen  of  France,  the  widow  of  the  most  ardent  perse- 
cutor of  the  Huguenots,  an  Italian  Catholic,  the  aunt  of 
Leo  X.,  —  can  she  alh'  herself  with  the  Reformation?  " 
asked  Charles  de  Gondi. 

"But,"  said  his  brother  Albert,  "if  she  seconds  the 
Guises  does  she  not  play  into  the  hands  of  a  usurpa- 
tion? We  have  to  do  with  men  who  see  a  crown  lo 
seize  in  the  coming  struggle  between  Catholicism  and 
Reform.  It  is  possible  to  support  the  Reformers  with- 
out abjuring.'* 

''  Reflect,  madame,  that  your  famil}-,  which  ought  to 
have  been  wholly  devoted  to  the  king  of  trance,  is  at 
this  moment  the  servant  of  the  king  of  Spain ;  and 
to-morrow  it  will  be  that  of  the  Reformation  if  the 
Reformation  could  make  a  king  of  the  Duke  of 
Florence.'' 

"I  am  certainly  disposed  to  lend  a  hand,  for  a  time, 
to  the  Huguenots,"  said  Catherine,  '^  if  only  to  revenge 
myself  on  that  soldier  and  that  priest  and  that  woman  !  " 
As  she  spoke,  she  called  attention  with  her  subtile  Ital- 
ian glance  to  the  duke  and  cardinal,  and  then  to  the 
second  floor  of  the  chateau  on  which  were  the  apart- 
ments of  her  son  and  Mary  Stuart.  "That  trio  has 
taken    from  my  hands  the  reins  of  State,  for  which  I 


Catherine  de    Medici,  110 


I 


waited  long  while  the  old  woman  filled  my  place,"  she 
said  gloomily,  glancing  toward  Chenonceaux,  the  cha- 
teau she  had  lately  exchanged  with  Diane  de  Poitiers 
against  that  of  Chanmont.  ''Ma,''  she  added  in 
Italian,  ''it  seems  that  these  reforming  gentry  in 
Geneva  have  not  the  wit  to  address  themselves  to  me ; 
and,  on  my  conscience,  I  cannot  go  to  them.  Not  one 
of  you  would  dare  to  risk  carrying  them  a  message  ! " 
She  stamped  her  foot.  ''  I  did  hope  you  would  have 
met  the  cripple  at  Ecouen  —  he  has  sense,'*  she  said  to 
Chiverni. 

"The  Prince  de  Conde  was  there,  madame/'  said 
Chiverni,  ''  but  he  could  not  persuade  the  Connetable 
to  join  him.  Monsieur  de  Montmorency  wants  to  over- 
throw the  Guises,  who  have  sent  him  into  exile,  but  he 
will  not  encourage  heresy." 

"  What  will  ever  break  these  individual  wills  which 
are  forever  thwarting  royalt}'?  God's  truth!"  ex- 
claimed the  queen,  "  the  great  nobles  must  be  made  to 
destro}' each  other,  as  Louis  XL,  the  greatest  of  your 
kinofs,  did  with  those  of  his  time.  There  are  four  or 
five  parties  now  in  this  kingdom,  and  the  weakest  of 
them  is  that  of  my  children." 

"  The  Reformation  is  an  idea^'^  said  Charles  de 
Gondi ;  ''  the  parties  that  Louis  XL  crushed  were 
moved  by  self-interests  onl^'." 

*'  Ideas  are  behind  selfish  interests,"  replied  Chi- 
verni. ''Under  Louis  XL  the  idea  was  the  great 
Fiefs  —  " 

*'  Make  heresy  an  axe,"  said  Albert  de  Gondi,  "  and 
you  will  escape  the  odium  of  executions." 

Ah ! "  cried  the  queen,  *'  but  I  am  ignorant  of  the 


120  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

strength  and  also  of  the  plans  of  the  Reformers  ;  and  I 
have  no  safe  way  of  communicating  with  them.  If  I 
were  detected  in  an}'  manoeuvre  of  that  kind,  either  by 
the  queen,  who  watches  me  like  an  infant  in  a  cradle,  or 
by  those  two  jailers  over  there,  I  should  be  banished 
from  France  and  sent  back  to  Florence  with  a  terrible 
escort,  commanded  by  Guise  minions.  Thank  you,  no, 
my  daughter-in-law  !  —  but  I  wish  you  the  fate  of  being 
a  prisoner  in  yoxxv  own  home,  that  you  may  know  what 
you  have  made  me  suffer." 

''  Their  plans  !  "  exclaimed  Chiverni ;  "  the  duke  and 
the  cardinal  know  what  the}'  are,  but  those  two  foxes 
will  not  divulo^e  them.  If  vou  could  induce  them  to  do 
so,  madame,  I  would  sacrifice  myself  for  your  sake  and 
come  to  an  understanding  with  the  Prince  de  Conde." 

''  How  much  of  the  Guises'  own  plans  have  they 
been  forced  to  reveal  to  you  ?  "  asked  the  queen,  with 
a  glance  at  the  two  brothers. 

''  Monsieur  de  Vieilleville  and  Monsieur  de  Saint 
Andre  have  just  received  fresh  orders,  the  nature  of 
which  is  concealed  from  us ;  but  I  think  the  duke  is 
intending  to  concentrate  his  best  troops  on  the  left 
bank.  Within  a  few  daj's  3'ou  will  all  be  moved  to 
Amboise.  The  duke  has  been  studying  the  position 
from  this  terrace  and  decides  that  Blois  is  not  a  pro- 
pitious spot  for  his  secret  schemes.  What  can  he  want 
better  ? "  added  Chiverni,  pointing  to  the  precipices 
w^hich  surrounded  the  chateau.  "There  is  no  place  in 
the  world  where  the  court  is  more  secure  from  attack 
than  it  is  here." 

"  Abdicate  or  reign,"  said  Albert  in  a  low  voice  to 
the  queen,  who  stood  motionless  and  thoughtful. 


I 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  121 


A  terrible  expression  of  inward  rage  passed  over  the 
fine  ivory  face  of  Catherine  de'  Medici,  who  was  not 
3'et  forty  years  old,  though  she  had  lived  for  twent\'-six 
years  at  the  court  of  France,  —  without  power,  she, 
IBw^ho  from  the  moment  of  her  arrival  intended  to  play  a 
leading  part!  Then,  in  her  native  language,  the  lan- 
guage of  Dante,  these  terrible  words  came  slowl}'  from 
her  lips :  — 

"  Nothing  so  long  as  that  son  lives  !  —  His  little 
wife  bewitches  him,'*  she  added  after  a  pause. 

Catherine's  exclamation  was  inspired  by  a  prophecy 
IHlwhich  had  been  made  to  her  a  few  da3's  earlier  at  the 
chateau  de  Chaumont  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river ; 
where  she  had  been  taken  by  Ruggieri,  her  astrologer,  to 
obtain  information  as  to  the  lives  of  her  four  children 
from  a  celebrated  female  seer,  secretlv  brouorht  there 
hy  Nostradamus  (chief  among  the  physicians  of  that 
great  sixteenth  century)  who  practised,  like  the  Ruggieri, 
the  Cardans,  Paracelsus,  and  others,  the  occult  sciences. 
This  woman,  whose  name  and  life  have  eluded  history, 
foretold  one  3'ear  as  the  length  of  Fran9ois's  reign. 

"Give  me  your  opinion  on  all  this,"  said  Catherine 
to  Chiverni. 

*'  We  shall  have  a  battle,'*  replied  the  prudent  court- 
ier.    *'  The  king  of  Navarre  —  ** 

*'0h!  say  the  queen,"  interrupted  Catherine. 

"  True,  the  queen,"  said  Chiverni,  smiling,  "  the 
queen  has  given  the  Prince  de  Conde  as  leader  to  the 
Reformers,  and  he,  in  his  position  of  3'ounger  son,  can 
venture  all ;  consequently  the  cardinal  talks  of  ordering 
him  here.'* 

"  If  he  comes,**  cried  the  queen,  "  I  am  saved  !  " 


■ 


122  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

Thus  the  leaders  of  the  great  movement  of  the  Re- 
formation in  France  were  justified  in  hoping  for  an  ally 
in  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

"  There  is  one  thing  to  be  considered,"  said  the 
queen.  '' The  Bourbons  may  fool  the  Huguenots  and 
the  Sieurs  Calvin  and  de  Beze  may  fool  the  Bourbons, 
but  are  we  strong  enough  to  fool  Huguenots,  Bour- 
bons, and  Guises?  In  presence  of  three  such  enemies 
it  is  allowable  to  feel  one's  pulse." 

''  But  the}^  have  not  the  king,"  said  Albert  de  Gondi. 
''  You  will  alwaj's  triumph,  having  the  king  on  your 
side." 

^^  Mcdadetta  3Iaria/**  muttered  Catherine  between 
her  teeth. 

*'  The  Lorrains  are,  even  now,  endeavoring  to  turn 
the  burghers  against  you,"  remarked  Birago." 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  123 


^t-\ 


Y. 


THE   COURT. 

The  hope  of  gaining  the  crown  was  not  the  result  of 
a  premeditated  plan  in  the  minds  of  the  restless  Guises. 
Nothing  warranted  such  a  hope  or  such  a  plan.  Cir- 
cumstances alone  inspired  their  audacity.  The  two  car*^ 
inals  and  the  two  Balafres  were  four  ambitious  minds, 
uperior  in  talents  to  all  the  other  politicians  who  sur- 
ounded  them.  This  family  was  never  really  brought 
!ow  except  by  Henri  IV. ;  a  factionist  himself,  trained 
in  the  great  school  of  which  Catherine  and  the  Guises 
ere  masters,  —  by  whose  lessons  he  had  profited  but 
o  well. 

At  this  moment  the  two  brothers,  the  duke  and 
cardinal,  were  the  arbiters  of  the  greatest  revolution 
attempted  in  Europe  since  that  of  Henry  VIII.  in  Eng- 
land, which  was  the  direct  consequence  of  the  invention 
of  printing.  Adversaries  to  the  Reformation,  they 
meant  to  stifle  it,  power  being  in  their  hands.  But 
their  opponent,  Calvin,  though  less  famous  than  Luther, 
was  far  the  stronger  of  the  two.  Calvin  saw  govern- 
ment where  Luther  saw  dogma  only.  While  the  stout 
beer-drinker  and  amorous  German  fought  with  the 
levil  and  flung  an  inkbottle  at  his  head,  the  man  from 
Picard}',  a  sickly  celibate,  made  plans  of  campaign, 
directed  battles,  armed  princes,  and  roused  whole  peo- 
ples by  sowing  republican  doctrines  in  the  hearts  of  the 


I 


124  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

burghers,  —  recouping  his  continual  defeats  in  the  field 
by  fresh  progress  in  the  mind  of  the  nations. 

The  Cardinal  de  Lorraine  and  the  Due  de  Guise,  like 
Philip  the  Second  and  tlie  Duke  of  Alba,  knew  where 
and  when  th§  monarchy  was  threatened,  and  how  close 
the  alliance  ought  to  be  between  Catholicism  and  Roy- 
alt}'.  Charles  the  Fiftli,  drunk  with  the  wine  of  Charle- 
magne's cup,  believing  too  blindk  in  the  strength  of  his 
monarch}',  and  confident  of  sharing  the  world  with  Su- 
leiman, did  not  at  first  feel  the  blow  at  his  head  ;  but  no 
sooner  had  Cardinal  Granvelle  made  him  aware  of  the 
extent  of  the  wound  than  he  abdicated.  Tlie  Guises 
bad  but  one  scheme,  — that  of  annihilating  heres}"  at  a 
single  blow.  This  blow  they  were  now  to  attempt,  for 
the  first  time,  to  strike  at  Amboise ;  failing  there  they 
tried  it  again,  twelve  years  later,  at  the  Saint-Bartholo- 
mew, —  on  the  latter  occasion  in  conjunction  with  Cath- 
erine de'  Medici,  enlightened  by  that  time  by  the  flames 
of  a  twelve  3'ears'  war,  enlightened  above  all  by  the 
significant  word  "  republic,'*  uttered  later  and  printed 
by  the  writers  of  the  Reformation,  but  alreadj'  foreseen 
(as  we  have  said  before)  by  Lecamus,  that  type  of  the 
Parisian  bourgeoisie. 

The  two  Guises,  now  on  the  point  of  striking  a  mur- 
derous blow  at  the  heart  of  the  French  nobility,  in 
order  to  separate  it  once  for  all  from  a  religious  party 
whose  triumph  would  be  its  ruin,  still  stood  together  on 
the  terrace,  concerting  as  to  the  best  means  of  revealing 
their  coup-d'Etat  to  the  king,  while  Catherine  was  talk- 
ing with  her  counsellors. 

"Jeanne  d'Albret  knew  what  she  was  about  when 
she  declared  herself  protectress  of  the  Huguenots  !     She 


I 

VC2 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  125 

has  a  battering-ram  in  the  Reformation,  and  she  knows 
ow  to  use  it,"  said  the  duke,  who  fathomed  the  deep 
esigns  of  the  Queen  of  Navarre,  one  of  the  great  minds 
of  the  century. 

"  Theodore  de  Beze  is  now  at  Nerac,"  remarked  the 
ardinal,  "  after  first  going  to  Geneva  to  take  Calvin's 
orders." 

"What  men  these   burghers  know  how  to   find!" 
exclaimed  the  duke. 

"Ah!  we  have  none  on  our  side  of  the  quaht}'  of 
La  Renaudie ! "   cried   the  cardinal.      "He  is  a  true 

|!;)atiline." 
"  Such  men  always  act  for  their  own  interests,"  re- 
)ned  the  duke.  "Didn't  I  fathom  La  Renaudie?  I 
oaded  him  with  favors ;  I  helped  him  to  escape  when 
le  was  condemned  by  the  parliament  of  Bourgogne ; 
I  brought  him  back  from  exile  by  obtaining  a  revi- 
sion of  his  sentence ;  I  intended  to  do  far  more  for 
him  ;  and  all  the  while  he  was  plotting  a  diabolical 
conspiracy  against  us !  That  rascal  has  united  the 
Protestants  of  German}^  with  the  heretics  of  France  by 
reconciling  the  differences  that  grew  up  between  the 
dogmas  of  Luther  and  those  of  Calvin.  He  has  brought 
the  discontented  great  seigneurs  into  the  part}'  of  the 
Reformation  without  obliging  them  to  abjure  Catholi- 
cism openh'.  For  the  last  year  he  has  had  thirt}'  cap- 
tains under  him  !  He  is  everywhere  at  once,  —  at  Lyon, 
in  Languedoc,  at  Nantes !  It  was  he  who  drew  up 
those  minutes  of  a  consultation  which  were  hawked 
about  all  German^',  in  which  the  theologians  declared 
that  force  might  be  resorted  to  in  order  to  withdraw 
the  king  from  our  rule  and  tutelage ;  the  paper  is  now 


I 


126  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

being  circulated  from  town  to  town.  Wherever  we  look 
for  liim  we  never  find  him  !  And  jet  I  liave  never  done 
him  anything  but  good  !  It  comes  to  this,  that  we  must 
now  either  thrash  him  like  a  dog,  or  try  to  throw  him  a 
golden  bridge  by  which  he  will  cross  into  our  camp." 

"  Bretagne,  Languedoc.  in  fact  the  whole  kingdom  is 
in  league  to  deal  us  a  mortal  blow,"  said  the  cardinal. 
"  After  the  fete  was  over  yesterday  I  spent  the  rest 
of  the  night  in  reading  the  reports  sent  me  hy  the 
monks  ;  in  which  I  found  that  the  onl}'  persons  who  have 
compromised  themselves  are  poor  gentlemen,  artisans, 
as  to  whom  it  does  n't  signify-  whether  you  hang  them 
or  let  them  live.  The  Colignys  and  Condes  do  not 
show  their  hand  as  yet,  though  they  hold  the  threads  of 
the  whole  conspirac}'. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  duke,  "  and,  therefore,  as  soon 
as  that  lawyer  Avenelles  sold  the  secret  of  the  plot,  I 
told  Braguelonne  to  let  the  conspirators  carry  it  out. 
They  have  no  suspicion  that  we  know  it ;  the}^  are  so 
sure  of  surprising  us  that  the  leaders  ma}*  possibl}*  show 
themselves  then.  M}'  advice  is  to  allow  ourselves  to 
be  beaten  for  fortv-eio^ht  hours.'' 

"  Half  an  hour  would  be  too  much,"  cried  the  car- 
dinal, alarmed. 

"  So  this  is  your  courage,  is  it  ?  '^  retorted  the  Balafre. 

The  cardinal,  quite  unmoved,  replied  :  "  Whether  the 
Prince  de  Conde  is  compromised  or  not,  if  we  are  cer- 
tain that  he  is  the  leader,  we  should  strike  him  down  at 
once  and  secure  tranquiUity.  W^e  need  judges  rather 
than  soldiers  for  this  business  —  and  judges  are  never 
lacking.  Victor}*  is  always  more  certain  in  the  parlia- 
ment than  on  the  field,  and  it  costs  less. 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  127 


I 

■    '^  I  consent,  willingly  ;  *'  said  the  duke  ;  "  but  do  you 

Hhink  the  Prince  de  Conde  is  powerful  enough  to  in- 

^Ipire,   himself   alone,   the   audacity  of  those  who   are 

making  this  first  attack  upon  us?    Is  n't  there,  behind 

him  —  '* 

'^The  king  of  Navarre,"  said  the  cardinal. 
'^  Pooh  !  a  fool  who  speaks  to  me  cap  in  hand  !  '*  re- 
plied the  duke.     "  The   coquetries  of  that  Florentine 
woman  seem  to  blind  your  eyes  — " 

'^Oh!  as  for  that,"  exclaimed  the  priest,  "  if  I  do 
pla}^  the  gallant  with  her  it  is  only  that  I  may  read  to 
the  bottom  of  her  heart." 
1^    "She  has  no  heart,"  said  the  duke,  sharply;  "she 
is  even  more  ambitious  than  3'ou  and  I." 

"  You  are  a  brave  soldier,"  said  the  cardinal ;  "  but, 
believe  me,  I  distance  3'ou  in  this  matter.  I  have  had 
Catherine  watched  by  Mar}'  Stuart  long  before  3*ou 
even  suspected  her.  She  has  no  more  religion  than 
my  shoe  ;  if  she  is  not  the  soul  of  this  plot  it  is  not  for 
want  of  will.  But  we  shall  now  be  able  to  test  her  on 
the  scene  itself,  and  find  out  then  how  she  stands  by 
us.  .  Up  to  this  time,  however,  I  am  certain  she  has 
held  no  communication  whatever  with  the  heretics." 

"  Well,  it  is  time  now  to  reveal  the  whole  plot  to  the 
king,  and  to  the  queen-motiier,  who,  you  say,  knows 
nothing  of  it,  —  that  is  the  sole  proof  of  her  innocence  ; 
perhaps  the  conspirators  have  waited  till  the  last 
moment,  expecting  to  dazzle  her  with  the  probabilities 
of  success.  La  Renaudie  must  soon  discover  by  m}' 
arrangements  that  we  are  warned.  Last  night  Ne- 
mours was  to  follow  detachments  of  the  Reformers  who 
are  pouring  in  along  the  cross-roads,  and  the  conspira- 


I 


128  Catherine  de'  MedicL 

tors  will  be  forced  to  attack  us  at  Amboise,  which 
place  I  intend  to  let  them  enter.  Here,"  added  the 
duke,  pointing  to  three  sides  of  the  rock  on  which  the 
chateau  de  Blois  is  built ;  "  we  should  have  an  assault 
without  an}^  result ;  tlie  Huguenots  could  come  and  go 
at  will.  Blois  is  an  open  hall  with  four  entrances ; 
whereas  Amboise  is  a  sack  with  a  single  mouth." 

"  I  shall  not  leave  Catherine's  side,"  said  the  cardinal. 

"  We  have  made  a  blunder,"  remarked  the  duke,  who 
was  playing  with  his  dagger,  tossing  it  in  the  air  and 
catching  it  by  the  hilt.  "  We  ought  to  have  treated  her 
as  we  did  the  Reformers,  —  given  her  complete  freedom 
of  action  and  caught  her  in  the  act." 

The  cardinal  looked  at  his  brother  for  an  instant  and 
shook  his  head. 

"What  does  Pardaillan  want?"  said  the  duke,  ob- 
serving the  approach  of  the  young  nobleman  who  was 
later  to  become  celebrated  b}'  his  encounter  with  La 
Renaudie,  in  which  they  both  lost  their  lives. 

'^  Monseigneur,  a  man  sent  b}"  the  queen's  furrier  is 
at  the  gate,  and  says  he  has  an  ermine  suit  to  convey 
to  her.     Am  I  to  let  him  enter?  " 

"Ah  !  yes,  —  the  ermine  surcoat  she  spoke  of  yester- 
da}',"  returned  the  cardinal ;  "let  the  shop-fellow  pass  ; 
she  will  want  the  garment  for  the  voyage  down  the 
Loire." 

"  How  did  he  get  here  without  being  stopped  until  he 
reached  the  gate?  "  asked  the  duke. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  replied  Pardaillan. 

"  I  Ml  ask  to  see  him  when  he  is  with  t^he  queen," 
thought  the  Balafre.  "Let  him  wait  in  the  salle  des 
gardes,''  he  said  aloud.    ^^  Is  he  3'oung,  Pardaillan?  " 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  129 

"  Yes,  monseigneur ;  he  says  he  is  a  son  of  Lecamiis 
the  furrier/^ 

"  Lecanins  is  a  good  Catholic/'  remarked  the  cardi- 
nal, who,  like  his  brother  the  duke,  was  endowed  with 
Caesar's  raeriiory.  "The  rector  of  Saint-Pierre-aux- 
Boeiifs  relies  upon  him  ;  he  is  the  provost  of  that  quarter." 

"Nevertheless,"  said  the  duke,  "  make  the  son  talk 
with  the  captain  of  the  Scotch  guard,"  laying  an  em- 
phasis on  the  verb  which  was  readily  understood. 
"  Ambroise  is  in  the  chateau  ;  he  can  tell  us  whether 
the  fellow  is  really  the  son  of  Lecamus,  for  the  old  man 
did  him  good  service  in  times  past.  Send  for  Ambroise 
Pare." 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Queen  Catherine  went, 
unattended,  toward  the  two  brothers,  who  hastened  to 
meet  her  with  their  accustomed  show  of  respect,  in  which 
the  Italian  princess  detected  constant  irony. 

"Messieurs,"  she  said,  "  will  3'ou  deign  to  inform 
me  of  what  is  about  to  take  place  ?  Is  the  widow  of 
your  former  master  of  less  importance  in  jour  esteem 
than  the  Sieurs  Vieilleville,  Birago,  and  Chiverni?" 

*'  Madame,"  replied  the  cardinal,  in  a  tone  of  gal- 
lantry, "  our  duty  as  men,  taking  precedence  of  that 
of  statecraft,  forbids  us  to  alarm  the  fair  sex  by  false 
reports.  But  this  morning  there  is  indeed  good  reason 
to  confer  with  you  on  the  affairs  of  the  country.  You 
must  excuse  my  brother  for  having  already  given  orders 
to  the  gentlemen  you  mention,  —  orders  which  were 
purely  militar}',  and  therefore  did  not  concern  you  ;  the 
matters  of  real  importance  are  still  to  be  decided.  If 
you  are  willing,  we  will  now  go  to  the  lever  of  the  king 
and  queen  ;  it  is  nearly  time." 

9 


130  Catherine  cW  Medici* 

"But  what  is  all  this,  Monsieur  le  due?*'  cried 
Catherine,  pretending  alarm.  ''  Is  anything  the 
matter?  " 

"  The  Reformation,  madame,  is  no  longer  a  mere 
heresy ;  it  is  a  part}',  which  has  taken  arms  and  is 
coming  here  to  snatch  the  king  away  from  3'ou." 

Catherine,  the  cardinal,  the  duke,  and  the  three  gen- 
tlemen made  their  way  to  the  staircase  through  the 
gallery,  which  was  crowded  with  courtiers  who,  being 
off  dut}',  no  longer  had  the  right  of  entrance  to  the 
royal  apartments,  and  stood  in  two  hedges  on  either 
side.  Gondi,  who  had  watched  them  while  the  queen- 
mother  talked  with  the  Lorraine  princes,  whispered  in 
her  ear,  in  good  Tuscan,  two  words  which  afterwards 
became  proverbs,  —  words  which  are  the  kej'note  to  one 
aspect  of  her  regal  character :  *'  Odiate  e  aspettate  " — 
"  Hate  and  wait." 

Pardaillan,  who  had  gone  to  order  the  officer  of  the 
guard  at  the  gate  of  the  chateau  to  let  the  clerk  of  the 
queen's  furrier  enter,  found  Christophe  open-mouthed 
before  the  portal,  staring  at  the  facade  built  hy  the 
good  king  Louis  XII.,  on  which  there  was  at  that  time 
a  much  greater  number  of  grotesque  carvings  than  we 
eee  there  to-da}',  —  grotesque,  that  is  to  sa}',  if  we  may 
judge  by  those  that  remain  to  us.  For  instance, 
persons  curious  in  such  matters  may  remark  the  figur- 
ine of  a  woman  carved  on  the  capital  of  one  of  the 
portal  columns,  with  her  robe  caught  up  to  show  to  a 
stout  monk  crouching  in  the  capital  of  the  correspond- 
ing column  "  that  which  Brunelle  showed  to  Marphise  ;  " 
while  above  this  portal  stood,  at  the  time  of  which  we 
write,  the  statue  of  Louis  XII.     Several  of  the  window- 


Catherine  de*  Medici,  131 

casings  of  this  fagade,  carved  in  the  same  style,  and 
now,  unfortunately,  destro3'ed,  amused,  or  seemed  to 
amuse  Christophe,  on  whom  the  arquebusiers  of  the 
guard  were  raining  jests. 

^  "  He  would  like  to  live  there,"  said  the  sub-corporal, 
playing  with  the  cartridges  of  his  weapon,  which  were 
prepared  for  use  in  the  shape  of  little  sugar-loaves,  and 
slung  to  the  baldricks  of  the  men. 

"  Hey,  Parisian  !  "  said  another;  "  3'ou  never  saw 
the  like  of  that,  did  you?" 

"  He  recognizes  the  good  King  Louis  XII./'  said 
a  third. 

Christophe  pretended  not  to  hear,  and  tried  to 
exaggerate  his  amazement,  the  result  being  that  his 
sill}'  attitude  and  behavior  before  the  guard  proved  an 
excellent  passport  to  tiie  ej'es  of  Pardaillan. 

"The  queen  has  not  yet  risen,''  said  the  j'oung 
captain;  "come  and  wait  for  her  in  the  salle  des 
gardes  " 

Christophe  followed  Pardaillan  rather  slowl}'.  On 
the  wa}'  he  stopped  to  admire  the  pretty  gallery  in  the 
form  of  an  arcade,  where  the  courtiers  of  Louis  XII. 
awaited  the  reception-hour  when  it  rained,  and  where, 
at  the  present  moment,  were  several  seigneurs  attached 
to  the  Guises  ;  for  the  staircase  (so  well  preserved  to 
the  present  da}')  which  led  to  their  apartments  is  at 
the  end  of  this  gallery  in  a  tower,  the  architecture  of 
which  commends  itself  to  the  admiration  of  intelligent 
beholders. 

"  Well,  well !  did  you  come  here  to  study  tlie  carving 
of  images?"  cried  Pardaillan,  as  Christophe  stopped 
before  the  charming  sculptures  of  the  balustrade  which 


132  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

unites,  or,  if  3'ou  prefer  it,  separates  the  columns  of 
each  arcade. 

Christophe  followed  the  young  officer  to  the  grand 
staircase,  not  without  a  glance  of  ecstasy  at  the  semi- 
Moorish  tower.  The  weather  was  fine,  and  the  court 
was  crowded  with  staff-officers  and  seigneurs,  talking 
together  in  little  groups,  — their  dazzling  uniforms  and 
court-dresses  brightening  a  spot  which  the  marvels  of 
architecture,  then  fresh  and  new,  had  already  made  so 
brilliant. 

''  Come  in  here,"  said  Pardaillan,  making  Lecamus  a 
sign  to  follow  him  through  a  carved  wooden  door  lead- 
ing to  the  second  floor,  which  the  door-keeper  opened 
on  recognizing  the  young  officer. 

It  is  easy  to  imagine  Christophe's  amazement  as  he 
entered  the  great  salle  des  gardes^  then  so  vast  that 
military  necessit}'  has  since  divided  it  hy  a  partition 
into  two  chambers.  It  occupied  on  the  second  floor 
(that  of  the  king),  as  did  the  corresponding  hall  on  the 
first  floor  (that  of  the  queen-mother),  one  third  of  the 
whole  front  of  the  chateau  facing  the  courtyard  ;  and  it 
was  lighted  by  two  windows  to  right  and  two  to  left  of 
the  tower  in  w^hich  the  famous  staircase  winds  up. 
The  young  captain  went  to  the  door  of  the  royal 
chamber,  which  opened  upon  this  vast  hall,  and  told 
one  of  the  two  pages  on  duty  to  inform  Madame  Day- 
elles,  the  queen's  bedchamber  woman,  that  the  furrier 
was  in  the  hall  with  her  surcoat. 

On  a  sign  from  Pardaillan  Christophe  placed  himself 
near  an  officer,  who  was  seated  on  a  stool  at  the  corner 
of  a  fireplace  as  large  as  his  father's  whole  shop,  which 
was  at  the  end  of  the  great  hall,  opposite  to  a  precisely 


Catherine  de*  Medici,  133 

similar  fireplace  at  the  other  end.  While  talking  to  thi^ 
officer,  a  lieutenant,  he  contrived  to  interest  him  with 
an  account  of  the  stagnation  of  trade.  Christophe 
seemed  so  thoroughly  a  shopkeeper  that  the  officer 
imparted  that  conviction  to  the  captain  of  the  Scotch 
guard,  who  came  in  from  the  courtyard  to  question 
Lecamus,  all  the  while  watching  him  covertly  and 
narrowly. 

However  much  Christophe  Lecamus  had  been  warned, 
it  was  impossible  for  him  to  really  apprehend  the  cold 
ferocity  of  the  interests  between  which  Chaudieu  had 
slipped  him.  To  an  observer  of  this  scene,  who  had 
known  the  secrets  of  it  as  the  historian  understands 
it  in  the  light  of  todav,  there  was  indeed  cause 
to  tremble  for  this  young  man,  —  the  hope  of  two 
families,  —  thrust  between  those  powerful  and  pitiless 
machines,  Catherine  and  the  Guises.  But  do  coura- 
geous beings,  as  a  rule,  measure  the  full  extent  of  their 
dangers?  By  the  way  in  which  the  port  of  Blois,  the 
chateau,  and  the  town  were  guarded,  Christophe  was 
prepared  to  find  spies  and  traps  everywhere ;  and  he 
therefore  resolved  to  conceal  the  importance  of  his 
mission  and  the  tension  of  his  mind  under  the  empty- 
headed  and  shopkeeping  appearance  with  which  he 
presented  himself  to  the  eyes  of  3*oung  Pardaillan,  the 
officer  of  the  guard,  and  the  Scottish  captain. 

The  agitation  which,  in  a  royal  castle,  alwa^'s  attends 
the  hour  of  the  king's  rising,  was  beginning  to  show 
itself.  The  great  lords,  whose  horses,  pages,  or  grooms 
remained  in  the  outer  courtyard,  —  for  no  one,  except 
the  king  and  the  queens,  had  the  right  to  enter  the  inner 
courtyard  on  horseback,  —  were  mounting  b}'  groups  the 


134  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

pfiagnificent  staircase,  and  filling  by  degrees  the  vast 
hall,  the  beams  of  which  are  now  stripped  of  the  deco- 
rations that  then  adorned  them.  Miserable  little  red 
tiles  have  replaced  the  ingenious  mosaics  of  the  floors ; 
and  the  thick  walls,  then  draped  with  the  crown  tapes- 
tries and  glowing  with  all  the  arts  of  that  unique  period 
of  the  splendors  of  humanity,  are  now  denuded  and 
whitewashed  !  Reformers  and  Catholics  were  pressing 
in  to  hear  the  news  and  to  watch  faces,  quite  as 
much  as  to  pay  their  duty  to  the  king.  Frangois  II.'s 
excessive  love  for  Mary  Stuart,  to  which  neither  the 
queen-mother  nor  the  Guises  made  any  opposition,  and 
the  politic  compliance  of  Mary  Stuart  herself,  deprived 
the  king  of  all  regal  power.  At  seventeen  j^ears  of 
age  he  knew  nothing  of  ro3'alt3^  but  its  pleasures,  or  of 
marriage  beyond  the  indulgence  of  first  passion.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  all  present  paid  their  court  to  Queen 
Mary  and  to  her  uncles,  the  Cardinal  de  Lorraine  and 
the  Due  de  Guise,  rather  than  to  the  king. 

This  stir  took  place  before  Christophe,  who  watched 
the  arrival  of  each  new  personage  with  natural  eager- 
ness. A  magnificent  portiere,  on  either  side  of  which 
stood  two  pages  and  two  soldiers  of  the  Scotch  guard, 
then  on  dut}-,  showed  him  the  entrance  to  the  royal 
chamber,  —  the  chamber  so  fatal  to  the  son  of  the  pres- 
ent Due  de  Guise,  the  second  Balafre,  who  fell  at  the 
foot  of  the  bed  now  occupied  by  Mary  Stuart  and  P'ran- 
9ois  II.  The  queen's  maids  of  honor  surrounded  the 
fireplace  opposite  to  that  where  Christophe  was  being 
"  talked  with  "  by  the  captain  of  the  guard.  This  sec- 
ond fireplace  was  considered  the  chhnney  of  honor. 
It  was  built  in  the  thick  wall  of  the  Salle  de  Conseil, 


Catherine  de^  Medici,  133 

between  the  door  of  the  royal  chamber  and  that  of  the 
council-hall,  so  that  the  maids  of  honor  and  the  lords 
in  waiting  who  had  the  right  to  be  there  were  on  the 
direct  passage  of  the  king  and  queen.  The  courtiers 
were  certain  on  this  occasion  of  seeing  Catherine,  for 
her  maids  of  honor,  dressed  like  the  rest  of  the  court 
ladies,  in  black,  came  up  the  staircase  from  the  queen- 
mother's  apartment,  and  took  their  places,  marshalled 
by  the  Comtesse  de  Fiesque,  on  the  side  toward  the 
council-hall  and  opposite  to  the  maids  of  honor  of  the 
3'oung  queen,  led  by  the  Duchesse  de  Guise,  who  occu- 
pied the  other  side  of  the  fireplace  on  the  side  of  the 
royal  bedroom.  The  courtiers  left  an  open  space  be- 
tween the  ranks  of  these  3'oung  ladies  (who  all  belonged 
to  the  first  families  of  the  kingdom),  which  none  but  the 
greatest  lords  had  the  right  to  enter.  The  Comtesse  de 
Fiesque  and  the  Duchesse  de  Guise  w^ere,  in  virtue  of 
their  office,  seated  in  the  midst  of  these  noble  maids, 
who  were  all  standing. 

The  first  gentleman  who  approached  the  dangerous 
ranks  was  tlie  Due  d'Orleans,  the  king's  brother,  who  had 
come  down  from  his  apartment  on  the  third  floor,  ac- 
companied by  Monsieur  de  Cypierre,  his  governor.  This 
young  prince,  destined  before  the  end  of  the  year  to 
reign  under  the  title  of  Charles  IX.,  was  only  ten  years 
old  and  extremely  timid.  The  Due  d'Anjou  and  the 
Due  d'Alengon,  his  3'ounger  brothers,  also  thePrincesse 
Marguerite,  afterwards  the  wife  of  Henri  IV.  (la  Reine 
Margot),  were  too  young  to  come  to  court,  and  were 
therefore  kept  by  their  mother  in  her  own  apartments. 
The  Due  d'Orleans,  richly  dressed  after  the  fashion  of 
the  times,  in  silken  trunk-hose,  a  close-fitting  jacket  of 


136  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

cloth  of  gold  embroidered  with  black  flowers,  and  a 
little  mantle  of  embroidered  velvet,  all  black,  for  he 
still  wore  mourning  for  his  father,  bowed  to  the  two 
ladies  of  honor  and  took  his  place  beside  his  mother's 
maids.  Alread}^  full  of  antipathy  for  the  adherents 
of  the  house  of  Guise,  he  replied  coldly  to  the  remarks 
of  the  duchess  and  leaned  his  arm  on  the  back  of  the 
chair  of  the  Comtesse  cle  Fiesque.  His  governor.  Mon- 
sieur de  Cypierre,  one  of  the  noblest  characters  of  that 
day,  stood  beside  him  like  a  shield.  Amyot  (afterwards 
Bishop  of  Auxerre  and  translator  of  Plutarch),  in  the 
simple  soutane  of  an  abbe,  also  accompanied  the  young 
prince,  being  his  tutor,  as  he  was  of  the  two  other 
princes,  whose  affection  became  so  profitable  to  him. 

Between  the  "  cliimne}'  of  honor "  and  the  other 
chimney  at  the  end  of  the  hall,  around  which  were 
grouped  the  guards,  their  captain,  a  few  courtiers,  and 
Christophe  carrying  his  box  of  furs,  the  Chancellor 
Olivier,  protector  and  predecessor  of  I'Hopital,  in  the 
robes  which  the  chancellors  of  France  have  always 
worn,  was  walking  up  and  down  with  the  Cardinal  de 
Tournon,  who  had  recentl}'  returned  from  Rome.  The 
pair  were  exchanging  a  few  whispered  sentences  in  the 
midst  of  great  attention  from  the  lords  of  the  court, 
massed  against  the  wall  which  separated  the  salle  des 
gardes  from  the  ro3'al  bedroom,  like  a  living  tapestry 
hacked  bj'  the  rich  tapestr}'  of  art  crowded  b}^  a  thousand 
personages.  In  spite  of  the  present  grave  events,  the 
court  presented  the  appearance  of  all  courts  in  all  lands, 
at  all  epochs,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  greatest  dangers. 
The  courtiers  talked  of  trivial  matters,  thinking  of  seri- 
ous ones  ;  they  jested  as  thej'  studied  faces,  and  appar- 


Catherine  de'  3f edict.  137 

entlv  concerned  themselves  about  love  and  the  marriaore 
^^^f  rich  heiresses  amid  the  bloodiest  catastrophes. 
^  "  What  did  you  think  of  j'esterdaj^'s  fete  ?  "  asked 
^Bourdeilles,  seigneur  of  Brantome,  approaching  Made- 
Hpioiselle  de  Fiennes,  one  of  the  queen-mother's  maids  of 
"honor. 

^'  Messieurs  du  Baif  et  du  Bellay  were  inspired  with 
delightful  ideas,"  she  replied,  indicating  the  organizers 
of  the  fete,  who  were  standing  near.  "  I  thought  it 
all  in  the  worst  taste,*'  she  added  in  a  low  voice. 

"You  had  no  part  to  play  in  it,  I  think?"  remarked 
Mademoiselle  de  Lewiston  from  the  opposite  ranks  of 
■Queen  Mary's  maids. 

"What  are  3'oa  reading  there,  madame?"  asked 
Amj'ot  of  the  Comtesse  de  Fiesque. 

"  '  Amadis  de  Gaule,*  by  the  Seigneur  des  Essarts, 
commissary  in  ordinary  to  the  king's  artillery,"  she 
replied. 

"A  charming  work,"  remarked  the  beautiful  girl  who 
was  afterwards  so  celebrated  under  the  name  of  Fos- 
seuse  when  she  was  lady  of  honor  to  Queen  Marguerite 
of  Navarre. 

"  The  style  is  a  novelty  in  form,"  said  Amyot.  "Do 
you  accept  such  barbarisms?"  he  added,  addressing 
Brantome. 

"They  please  the  ladies,  3'ou  know,"  cried  Brantome, 
crossing  over  to  the  Duchesse  de  Guise,  who  held 
the  "  Decamerone  "  in  her  hand.  ^-  Some  of  the  women 
of  your  house  must  appear  in  that  book,  madame," 
he  said.  "It  is  a  pity  that  the  Sieur  Boccaccio  did 
not  live  in  our  day ;  he  would  have  known  plenty 
of  ladies  to  swell  his  volume  —  " 


138  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

"How  shrewd  that  Monsieur  de  Bran  tome  is,"  said 
the  beautiful  Mademoiselle  de  Limueil  to  the  Comtesse 
de  Fiesque ;  "he  came  to  us  first,  but  he  means  to 
remain  in  the  Guise  quarters." 

"Hush!"  said  Madame  de  Fiesque  glancing  at  the 
beautiful  Limueil.  "Attend  to  what  concerns  your- 
self." 

The  3^oung  girl  turned  her  e^'es  to  the  door.  Slie 
was  expecting  Sardini,  a  noble  Italian,  with  whom  the 
queen-mother,  her  relative,  married  her  after  an  "  acci- 
dent '*  which  happened  in  the  dressing-room  of  Cather- 
ine de'  Medici  herself;  by  which  the  3'oung  lady  won 
the  honor  of  having  a  queen  as  midwife. 

"  By  the  hol}^  Alipantin  !  Mademoiselle  Davila  seems 
to  me  prettier  and  prettier  everj^  morning,'^  said  Mon- 
sieur de  Robertet,  secretary  of  State,  bowing  to  the 
ladies  of  the  queen-mother. 

The  arrival  of  the  secretary  of  State  made  no  com- 
motion whatever,  though  his  office  was  precisely  what 
that  of  a  minister  is  in  these  da3's. 

"  If  you  reallj'  think  so,  monsieur,"  said  the  beaut}', 
"  lend  me  the  squib  which  was  written  against  the 
Messieurs  de  Guise ;  I  know  it  was  lent  to  you." 

"It  is  no  longer  in  my  possession,"  replied  the  sec- 
retar}',  turning  round  to  bow  to  the  Duchesse  de 
Guise. 

"  I  have  it,"  said  the  Comte  de  Grammont  to  Made- 
moiselle Davila,  "  but  I  will  give  it  you  on  one  condi- 
tion onh\" 

"  Condition  !  fie !  "  exclaimed  Madame  de  Fiesque. 

^'  You  don't  know  what  it  is,"  replied  Grammont. 

*'  Oh !  it  is  CIS}'  to  guess,"  remarked  la  Limueil. 


I 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  139 


The  Italian  custom  of  calling  ladies,  as  peasants  call 
their  wives  ^^  la  Such-a-one''  was  then  the  fashion  at 
the  court  of  France. 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  said  the  count,  hastily,  "  the 
matter  simply  is  to  give  a  letter  from  my  cousin  de 
Jarnac  to  one  of  the  maids  on  the  other  side,  Made- 
moiselle de  Matha." 

"You  must  not  compromise  my  young  ladies,''  said 
the  Comtesse  de  Fiesque.  ''  I  will  deliver  the  letter 
myself.  —  Do  j'ou  know  what  is  happening  in  Flan- 
ders?^' she  continued,  turning  to  the  Cardinal  de  Tour- 
non.  '^  It  seems  that  Monsieur  d'Egmont  is  given  to 
surprises." 

''  He  and  the  Prince  of  Orange,"  remarked  Cypierre, 
with  a  significant  shrug  of  his  shoulders. 

"The  Duke  of  Alba  and  Cardinal  Granvelle  are 
going  there,  are  they  not,  monsieur?"  said  Amyot 
to  the  Cardinal  de  Tournon,  who  remained  standing, 
gloomy  and  anxious  between  the  opposing  groups  after 
his  conversation  with  the  chancellor. 

''Happil}^  we  are  at  peace;  we  need  only  conquer 
heres}^  on  the  stage,"  remarked  the  young  Due  d'Orleans, 
alluding  to  a  part  he  had  played  the  night  before,  —  that 
of  a  knight  subduing  a  hydra  which  bore  upon  its  fore- 
heads the  word  ''  Reformation." 

Catherine  de'  Medici,  agreeing  in  this  with  her 
daughter-in-law,  had  allowed  a  theatre  to  be  made  of 
the  great  hall  (afterwards  arranged  for  the  Parliament 
of  Blois),  which,  as  we  have  already  said,  connected  the 
chateau  of  Francois  I.  with  that  of  Louis  XII. 

The  cardinal  made  no  answer  to  Amyot's  question, 
but  resumed  his  walk  through  the  centre  of  the  hall, 


140  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

talking  in  low  tones  with  Monsieur  de  Robertet  and 
the  chancellor.  Many  persons  are  ignorant  of  the 
difficulties  which  secretaries  of  State  (subsequently 
called  ministers)  met  with  at  tlie  first  establishment  of 
their  office,  and  hovv  much  trouble  the  kings  of  France 
had  in  creating  it.  At  this  epoch  a  secretary  of  State 
like  Robertet  was  purely  and  simply  a  writer ;  he 
counted  for  almost  nothing  among  the  princes  and 
grandees  who  decided  the  affairs  of  State.  His  func- 
tions were  little  more  than  those  of  the  superinten- 
dent of  finances,  the  chancellor,  and  the  keeper  of  the 
seals.  The  kings  granted  seats  at  the  council  by 
letters-patent  to  those  of  their  subjects  whose  advice 
seemed  to  them  useful  in  the  management  of  public 
affairs.  Entrance  to  the  council  was  given  in  this  wa}^ 
to  a  president  of  the  Chamber  of  Parliament,  to  a 
bishop,  or  to  an  untitled  favorite.  Once  admitted 
to  the  council,  the  subject  strengthened  his  position 
there  bv  obtaininoj  various  crown  offices  on  which 
devolved  such  prerogatives  as  the  sword  of  a  Constable, 
the  government  of  provinces,  the  grand-mastership  of 
artillery',  the  baton  of  a  marshal,  a  leading  rank  in  the 
arm}',  or  the  admiralty,  or  a  captainc}^  of  the  galle3's, 
often  some  office  at  court,  like  that  of  grand -master  of 
the  household,  now  held,  as  we  have  already  said,  by 
the  Due  de  Guise. 

"  Do  3'ou  think  that  the  Due  de  IN'emours  will  marry 
FrauQoise  ?  "  said  Madame  de  Guise  to  the  tutor  of  the 
Due  d'Orleans. 

"Ah,  madame,"  he  replied,  "I  know  nothing  but 
Latin." 

This  answer  made  all  who  were  within  hearing  of  it 


I 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  141 


ic 


smile.     The  seduction  of  FraiiQoise  de  Eolian  by  the 
lie  de  Nemours  was  the  topic  of  all   conversations ; 
ut,  as  the  duke  was  cousin  to  FrauQois  II.,  and  doubly 
allied  to  the  house  of  Valois  through  his  mother,  the 
Guises  regarded  him  more  as   the    seduced  than    the 
seducer.     Nevertheless,   the    power   of  the    house    of 
Rohan  was  such  that  the  Due  de  Nemours  was  obliged, 
after  the  death  of  Francois  II. ,  to  leave  France  in  con- 
sequence of  suits  brought  against  him  by  the  Rohans  ; 
which  suits  the  Guises  settled.     The  duke's  marriage 
with  the  Duchesse  de  Guise  after  Poltrot's  assassination 
of  her  husband  in  1563,  ma}^  explain  the  question  which 
he  put  to  Amyot,  by  revealing  the  rivalry  which  must 
ave  existed  between  Mademoiselle  de  Rohan  and  the 
uchess. 

"  Do  see  that  group  of  the  discontented  over  there?" 
aid  the  Comte  de  Grammont,  motioning  toward  the 
ilessieurs  de  Coligny,  the  Cardinal  de  Chatillon,  Dan- 
ille,  Thore,  Moret,  and  several  ot^r  seigneurs  sus- 
pected of  tampering  with  the  Reformation,  who  were 
standing  between  two  windows  on  the  other  side  of  the 
fireplace.  ^  ^ 

"The  Huguenots  are  bestirring  themselves,"  said 
Cypierre.  '*  We  know  that  Theodore  de  Beze  has  gone 
to  Nerac  to  induce  the  Queen  of  Navarre  to  declare  for 
the  Reformers — b}'  abjuring  publicly,"  he  added,  look- 
ing at  the  hailli  of  Orleans,  who  held  the  office  of  chan- 
cellor to  the  Queen  of  Navarre,  and  was  watching  the 
court  attentively. 

'^  She  will  do  it !  "  said  the  hailli^  dr}'!}'. 
This  personage,  the  Orleans  Jacques  Cceur,  one  of 
the  richest  burghers  of  the  da}',  was  named  Groslot, 


I 


142  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

and  had  charge  of  Jeanne  d'Albret's  business  with  the 
court  of  France. 

"Do  3'ou  really  think  so?"  said  the  chancellor  of 
France,  appreciating  the  full  importance  of  Groslot's 
declaration. 

"Are  you  not  aware,"  said  the  burgher,  "that  the 
Queen  of  Navarre  has  nothing  of  the  woman  in  her 
except  sex  ?  She  is  wholl}'  for  things  virile  ;  her  power- 
ful mind  turns  to  the  great  affairs  of  State ;  her  heart 
is  invincible  under  adversitv." 

"Monsieur  le  cardinal,"  whispered  the  Chancelier 
Olivier  to  Monsieur  de  Tournon,  who  had  overheard 
Groslot,  "what  do  you  think  of  that  audacit}'?" 

"  The  Queen  of  Navarre  did  well  in  choosing  for  her 
chancellor  a  man  from  whom  the  house  of  Lorraine 
borrows  money,  and  who  offers  his  house  to  the  king, 
if  his  Majesty  visits  Orleans,"  replied  the  cardinal. 

The  chancellor  and  the  cardinal  looked  at  each 
other,  without  venturing  to  further  communicate  their 
thoughts  ;  but  Robertet  expressed  them,  for  he  thought 
it  necessary  to  show  more  devotion  to  the  Guises  than 
these  great  personages,  inasmuch  as  he  was  smaller 
than  the}'. 

"  It  is  a  great  misfortune  that  the  house  of  Navarre, 
instead  of  abjuring  the  religion  of  its  fathers,  does  not 
abjure  the  spirit  of  vengeance  and  rebellion  which  the 
Connetable  de  Bourbon  breathed  into  it,"  he  said  aloud. 
"  We  shall  see  the  quarrels  of  the  Armagnacs  and  the 
Bourguignons  revive  in  our  da}'." 

"No,"  said  Groslot,  "there's  another  Louis  XL  in 
the  Cardinal  de  Lorraine." 

"  And  also  in  Queen  Catherine,"  replied  Robertet. 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  143 

tAt  this  moment  Madame  Daj-elle,  the  favorite  bed- 
hamber  woman  of  Queen  Maiy  Stuart,  crossed  the 
hall,  and  went  toward  the  royal  chamber.  Her  pas- 
sage caused  a.  general  commotion. 

"  We  shall  soon  enter,"  said  Madame  de  Fiesque. 
'*  I  don't  think  so,"  replied  the  Duchesse  de  Guise. 
"  Their  Majesties  will  come  out ;  a  grand  council  is  to 
be  held." 


144  Catherijie  de*  Medici. 


VI. 


THE   LITTLE    LEVER   OF   FRANCOIS   II. 

Madame  Dayelle  glided  into  the  iwal'  chamber 
after  scratching  on  the  door,  —  a  respectful  custom, 
invented  by  Catherine  de'  Medici  and  adopted  by  the 
court  of  France. 

''  How  is  the  weather,  my  dear  Dayelle?"  said  Queen 
Mary,  showing  her  fresh  3'oung  face  out  of  the  bed,  and 
shaking  the  curtains. 

' '  Ah  !  madame  —  " 

''What's  the  matter,  my  Da3'elle  ?  You  look  as  if 
the  archers  of  the  guard  were  after  you." 

"  Oh  !  madame,  is  the  king  still  asleep?" 

''Yes." 

"  We  are  to  leave  the  chateau  ;  Monsieur  le  cardinal 
requests  me  to  tell  3'ou  so,  and  to  ask  you  to  make  the 
king  agree  to  it." 

"•  Do  you  know  why,  m}'  good  Dayelle?" 

"•  The  Reformers  want  to  seize  you  and  carry 
you  off." 

"Ah  I  that  new  religion  does  not  leave  me  a  minute's 
peace  !  I  dreamed  last  night  that  I  was  in  prison,  — 
I,  who  will  some  day  unite  the  crowns  of  the  three 
noblest  kingdoms  in  the  world ! " 

"  Therefore  it  could  be  only  a  dream,  madame." 


I 


■ 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  145 

'^ Carry  m^  off!  well,  'twould  be  rather  pleasant ;  but 
on  account  of  religion,  and  by  heretics  —  oh,  that  would 
be  horrid ! " 

The  queen  sprang  from  the  bed  and  placed  herself 
in  a  large  arm-chair  of  red  velvet  before  the  fireplace, 
after  Davelle  had  j^iven  her  a  dressin2f-«:own  of  black 
velvet,  which  she  fastened  looseh'  round  her  waist  by  a 
silken  cord.  Dayelle  lit  the  fire,  for  the  mornings  are 
cool  on  the  banks  of  the  Loire  in  the  month  of  May. 

''My  uncles  must  have  received  some  news  during 
the  night?"  said  the  queen,  inquiringly  to  Daj'elle, 
whom  she  treated  with  great  familiarity. 

"Messieurs  de  Guise  have  been  walking  toscether 
from  early  morning  on  the  terrace,  so  as  not  to  be  over- 
heard by  any  one  ;  and  there  the}'  received  messengers, 
who  came  in  hot  haste  from  all  the  different  points  of 
the  kingdom  where  the  Reformers  are  stirring.  Madame 
la  reine  mere  was  there  too,  with  her  Italians,  hoping  she 
would  be  consulted ;  but  no,  she  was  not  admitted  to 
the  council.'^ 

"  She  must  have  been  furious." 

"  All  the  more  because  she  was  so  angrj'  j'esterda}-," 
replied  Dayelle.  ''They  say  that  when  she  saw  your 
Majesty  appear  in  that  beautiful  dress  of  woven  gold, 
with  the  charming  veil  of  tan-colored  crape,  she  was 
none  too  pleased  —  " 

"  Leave  us,  m}^  good  Dayelle,  the  king  is  waking  up. 
Let  no  one,  even  those  who  have  the  little  entrees., 
disturb  us  ;  an  affair  of  State  is  in  hand,  and  my  uncles 
will  not  disturb  us." 

''Why!  my  dear  Mary,  already  out  of  bed?  Is  it 
daylight?"  said  the  young  king,  waking  up. 

10 


146  Catherine  de^  Medici. 

"  My  dear  darling,  while  we  were  asleep  the  wicked 
waked,  and  now  they  are  forcing  us  to  leave  this 
delightful  place." 

"  What  makes  you  think  of  wicked  people,  vc\y 
treasure?  I  am  sure  we  enjoyed  the  prettiest  fete  in 
the  world  last  night — if  it  were  not  for  the  Latin  words 
those  gentlemen  will  put  into  our  French." 

''  Ah  !  "  said  Mary,  "3'our  language  is  really  in  xevy 
good  taste,  and  Rabelais  exhibits  it  finely." 

"You  are  such  a  learned  woman!  I  am  so  vexed 
that  I  can't  sing  your  praises  in  verse.  If  I  were  not 
the  king,  I  would  take  m}'  brothers  tutor,  Am3'ot,  and 
let  him  make  me  as  accomplished  as  Charles." 

"  You  need  not  env}'  your  brother,  who  writes  verses 
and  shows  them  to  me,  asking  for  mine  in  return.  You 
are  the  best  of  the  four,  and  will  make  as  good  a  king 
as  3'ou  are  the  dearest  of  lovers.  Perhaps  that  is  why 
your  mother  does  not  like  3'ou  !  But  never  mind  !  I, 
dear  heart,  will  love  vou  for  all  the  world." 

"I  have  no  great  merit  in  loving  such  a  perfect 
queen,"  said  the  little  king.  "  I  don't  know  what 
prevented  me  from  kissing  3'ou  before  the  whole  court 
when  3'ou  danced  the  hranle  with  the  torches  last 
night !  I  saw  plainly  that  all  the  other  women  were 
mere  servants  compared  to  you,  my  beautiful  Mary." 

"  It  ma}'  be  onh'  prose  you  speak,  but  it  is  ravishing 
speech,  dear  darling,  for  it  is  love  that  sa3's  those 
words.  And  you  —  3'ou  know  well,  my  beloved,  that 
were  you  onl}'  a  poor  little  page,  I  should  love  3'ou  as 
much  as  I  do  now.  And  yet,  there  is  nothing  so  sweet 
as  to  whisper  to  one's  self:  '  My  lover  is  king  ! '  " 

"Oh!  the  pretty  arm!     Wh3'  must  we  dress  our- 


I 


I 


Catherine  de^  Medici,  147 

selves  ?  I  love  to  pass  my  fingers  though  3'onr  silk}' 
hair  and  tangle  its  blond  curls.  Ah  9a !  sweet  one, 
don't  let  3'our  women  kiss  that  prett}'  throat  and  those 
white  shoulders  an}'  more  ;  don't  allow  it,  I  sa}'.  It  is 
too  much  that  the  fogs  of  Scotland  ever  touched  them  !  " 

"  Won't  vou  come  with  me  to  see  mv  dear  country? 
The  Scotch  love  3'ou  ;  there  are  no  rebellions  there  !  " 

"  Who  rebels  in  this  our  kingdom  ? ''  said  Francois, 
crossing  his  dressing-gown  and  taking  Mary  Stuart  on 
his  knee. 

"  Oh  !  'tis  all  verj'  charming,  I  know  that,"  she  said, 
withdrawing  her  cheek  from  the  king;  ''  but  it  is  your 
business  to  reign,  if  you  please,  my  sweet  sire." 

"  Why  talk  of  reigning?     This  morning  I  wish  —  " 

"  Wh}^  say  wish  when  3-0U  have  only  to  will  all? 
That 's  not  the  speech  of  a  king,  nor  that  of  a  lover.  — 
But  no  more  of  love  just  now  ;  let  us  drop  it !  We 
have  business  more  important  to  talk  of." 

"  Oh  !  cried  the  king,  ''it  is  long  since  we  have  had 
any  business.     Is  it  amusing?  " 

"  No,"  said  Mary,  ''  not  at  all ;  we  are  to  move  from 
Blois." 

"  I'll  wager,  darling,  you  have  seen  3'our  uncles,  who 
manage  so  well  that  I,  at  seventeen  3'ears  of  age,  am 
no  better  than  a  roi  faineant.  In  fact,  I  don't  know 
wh}'  I  have  attended  an}'  of  the  couficils  since  the  first. 
They  could  manage  matters  just  as  well  by  putting  the 
crown  in  my  chair ;  I  see  only  through  their  eyes,  and 
am  forced  to  consent  to  things  blindly." 

^'Oh!  monsieur,"  said  the  queen,  rising  from  the 
king's  knee  with  a  little  air  of  indignation,  "you  said 
you  would  never  worry  me  again  on  this  subject,  and 


148  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

that  my  uncles  used  the  royal  power  only  for  the  good  of 
your  people.  Your  people  !  —  they  are  so  nice  !  Thej^ 
would  gobble  you  up  like  a  strawberry  if  you  tried  to 
rule  them  yourself.  They  want  a  warrior,  a  rough  mas- 
ter with  mailed  hands ;  whereas  you  —  you  are  a  dar- 
ling whom  I  love  as  you  are  ;  whom  I  should  never  love 
otherwise, — do  you  hear  me,  monsieur?"  she  added, 
kissing  the  forehead  of  the  lad,  who  seemed  inclined  to 
rebel  at  her  speech,  but  softened  at  her  kisses. 

"  Oh  !  how  I  wish  the}^  were  not  your  uncles,"  cried 
Francois  II.  '^  I  particularly  dislike  the  cardinal ;  and 
when  he  puts  on  his  wheedling  air  and  his  submissive 
manner  and  says  to  me,  bowing :  '  Sire,  the  honoi*  of 
the  crown  and  the  faith  of  your  fathers  forbid  your 
Majesty  to  —  this  and  that,'  I  am  sure  he  is  working 
only  for  his  cursed  house  of  Lorraine." 

''  Oh,  how  well  3'ou  mimicked  him !  ''  cried  the 
queen.  "But  why  don't  you  make  the  Guises  inform 
3'OU  of  what  is  going  on,  so  that  when  3'ou  attain  your 
grand  majority  you  may  know  how  to  reign  3^ourself? 
I  am  3'our  wife,  and  your  honor  is  mine.  Trust  me ! 
we  will  reign  together,  m3'  darling ;  but  it  won't  be  a 
bed  of  roses  for  us  until  the  da3'  comes  when  we  have 
our  own  wills.  There  is  nothing  so  difficult  for  a  king 
as  to  reign.  Am  I  a  queen,  for  example?  Don't  you 
know  that  your  mother  returns  me  evil  for  all  the  good 
m3^  uncles  do  to  raise  the  splendor  of  3'our  throne? 
He3' !  what  difference  between  them  !  M3'  uncles  are 
great  princes,  nephews  of  Charlemagne,  filled  with  ar- 
dor and  read3'  to  die  for  3'ou  ;  whereas  this  daughter 
of  a  doctor  or  a  shopkeeper,  queen  of  France  by  acci- 
dent, scolds  like  a  burgher-woman  who  can't  manage 


I 


I 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  149 

her  own  household.  She  is  discontented  because  she 
can't  set  every  one  b}-  the  ears  ;  and  then  she  looks  at 
me  with  a  sour,  pale  face,  and  says  from  her  pinched 
lips :  '  My  daughter,  you  are  the  queen  ;  I  am  only  the 
second  woman  in  the  kingdom  '  (she  is  really  furious, 
you  know,  my  darling),  '  but  if  I  were  in  3*our  place  I 
should  not  wear  crimson  velvet  while  all  the  court  is  in 
mourning ;  neither  should  I  appear  in  i)ublic  with  my 
own  hair  and  no  jewels,  because  what  is  not  becoming 
in  a  simple  lady  is  still  less  becoming  in  a  queen.  Also 
I  should  not  dance  myself,  I  should  content  myself  with 
seeins:  others  dance/  —  That's  what  she  savsto  me  —  " 

"Heavens!*^  cried  the  king,  ''I  think  I  hear  her 
coming.     "  If  she  were  to  know  —  " 

"  Oh,  how  3  ou  tremble  before  her.  She  worries  you. 
Only  sa}'  so,  and  we  will  send  her  away.  Faith,  she  's 
Florentine  and  we  can't  help  her  tricking  3'ou,  but  when 
it  comes  to  worrying  —  " 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Mary,  hold  3'our  tongue  !  "  said 
Franqois,  frightened  and  also  pleased ;  "  I  don't  want 
you  to  lose  her  good-will." 

"  Don't  be  afraid  that  she  will  ever  break  with  m^, 
who  will  some  da}'  wear  the  three  noblest  crowns  in  the 
w^orld,  my  dearest  little  king,"  cried  Mary  Stuart. 
*'  Though  she  hates  me  for  a  thousand  reasons  she  is 
always  caressing  me  in  the  hope  of  turning  me  against 
Tt\y  uncles." 

"  Hates  you!" 

"  Yes,  m}'  angel ;  and  if  I  had  not  proofs  of  that  feel- 
ing such  as  women  only  understand,  for  the\'  alone  know 
its  malignit}',  I  would  forgive  her  perpetual  opposition 
to  our  dear  love,  my  darling.     Is  it  m}*  fault  that  3'our 


150  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

father  could  not  endure  Mademoiselle  Medici  or  that 
his  son  loves  me?  The  truth  is,  she  hates  me  so  much 
that  if  you  had  not  put  3'ourself  into  a  rage,  we  should 
each  have  had  our  separate  chamber  at  Saint-Germain, 
and  also  here.  She  pretended  it  was  the  custom  of  the 
kings  and  queens  of  France.  Custom,  indeed !  it  was 
your  father's  custom,  and  that  is  easily  understood.  As 
for  your  grandfather,  Fran9ois,  the  good  man  set  up 
the  custom  for  the  convenience  of  his  loves.  Therefore, 
I  say,  take  care.  And  if  we  have  to  leave  this  place, 
be  sure  that  we  are  not  separated." 

"Leave  Blois !  Mary,  what  do  3'ou  mean?  I  don't 
wish  to  leave  this  beautiful  chateau,  where  we  can  see 
the  Loire  and  the  country  all  round  us,  with  a  town  at 
our  feet  and  all  these  pretty  gardens.  If  I  go  away  it 
will  be  to  Italy  with  you,  to  see  St.  Peter's,  and  Raffa- 
elle's  pictures." 

**  And  the  orange-trees  ?  Oh !  my  darling  king,  if 
5'ou  knew  the  longing  3'our  Mary  has  to  ramble  among 
the  orange-groves  in  fruit  and  flower !  " 

"  Let  us  go,  then  ! "  cried  the  king. 

"  Go  ! "  exclaimed  the  grand- master  as  he  entered  the 
room.  "  Yes,  sire,  3'ou  must  leave  Blois.  Pardon  my 
boldness  in  entering  3'our  chamber ;  but  circumstances 
are  stronger  than  etiquette,  and  I  come  to  entreat  you 
to  hold  a  council." 

Finding  themselves  thus  surprised,  Mar3''  and  Fran- 
cois hastil3'  separated,  and  on  their  faces  was  the  same 
expression  of  offended  royal  majest3'. 

'^  You  are  too  much  of  a  grand-master,  Monsieur  de 
Guise,"  said  the  king,  though  controlling  his  anger. 

''  The  devil  take  lovers,"  murmured  the  cardinal  in 
Catherine's  ear. 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  151 

"  My  son,"  said  the  queen-mother,  appearing  behind 
the  cardinal;  ''it  is  a  matter  concerning  your  safety 
and  that  of  your  kingdom." 

"  Heresy  wakes  while  you  have  slept,  sire,"  said  the 
cardinal. 

"  Withdraw  into  the  hall,"  cried  the  little  king,  ''  and 
then  we  will  hold  a  council." 

"  Madame,"  said  the  grand-master  to  the  young 
queen  ;  "the  son  of  your  furrier  has  brought  some  furs, 
which  are  just  in  time  for  the  journey,  for  it  is  probable 
we  shall  sail  down  the  Loire.  But,"  he  added,  turning 
to  the  queen-mother,  "  he  also  wishes  to  speak  to  3'ou, 
madame.  While  the  king  dresses,  you  and  Madame  la 
reine  had  better  see  and  dismiss  him,  so  that  we  may 
not  be  dela^^ed  and  harassed  by  this  trifle."  ^ 

*^  Certainly,"  said  Catherine,  thinking  to  herself,  *'  If 
he  expects  to  get  rid  of  me  by  any  such  trick  he  little 
knows  me." 

The  cardinal  and  the  duke  withdrew,  leaving  the  two 
queens  and  the  king  alone  together.  As  they  crossed 
the  salle  des  gardes  to  enter  the  council-chamber,  the 
grand-master  told  the  usher  to  bring  the  queen's  furrier 
to  him.  When  Christophe  saw  the  usher  approaching 
from  the  farther  end  of  the  great  hall,  he  took  him, 
on  account  of  his  uniform,  for  some  great  personage, 
and  his  heart  sank  within  him.  But  that  sensation, 
natural  as  it  was  at  the  approach  of  the  critical  moment, 
grew  terrible  when  the  usher,  whose  movement  had 
attracted  the  ejes  of  all  that  brilliant  assembly'  upon 
Christophe,  his  homely  face  and  his  bundles,  said  to 
him :  — 


*'  Messeigneurs  the  Cardinal   de   Lorraine   and   the 


■ 


152  Gather ine  de*  Medici, 

Grand- master  wish  to  speak  to  3'ou  in  the  council 
chamber." 

*•  Can  I  have  been  betrayed  ? "  thought  the  helpless 
ambassador  of  tlie  Reformers. 

Cliristophe  followed  tlie  usher  with  lowered  e^^es, 
which  he  did  not  raise  till  be  stood  in  the  great  council- 
chamber,  the  size  of  which  is  almost  equal  to  that  of 
the  salle  des  gardes.  The  two  Lorrain  princes  were 
there  alone,  standing  before  the  magnificent  fireplace, 
which  backs  against  that  in  the  salle  des  gardes  around 
which  the  ladies  of  the  two  queens  were  grouped. 

^'  You  have  come  from  Paris ;  which  route  did  3'ou 
take?"  said  the  cardinal. 

"I  came  by  water,  inonseigneur,'*  replied  the  re- 
former. 

"How  did  you  enter  Blois?'*  asked  the  grand- 
master. 

"  By  the  docks,  monseigneur." 

"Did  no  one  question  you?"  exclaimed  the  duke, 
who  was  watching  the  3'oung  man  closely. 

"  No,  monseigneur.  To  the  first  soldier  who  looked 
as  if  he  meant  to  stop  me  I  said  I  came  on  duty  to  the 
two  queens,  to  whom  my  father  was  furrier." 

"  What  is  happening  in  Paris?  "  asked  the  cardinal. 

"  They  are  still  looking  for  the  murderer  of  the 
President  Minard." 

"Are  you  not  the  son  of  my  surgeon*s  greatest 
friend?  ''  said  the  Due  de  Guise,  misled  by  the  candor  of 
Christophers  expression  after  his  first  alarm  had  passed 
away. 

"Yes,  monseigneur." 

The  Grand-master  turned  aside,  abruptl}'  raised  the 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  153 

portiere  which  concealed  the  double  door  of  the  council- 
chamber,  and  showed  his  face  to  the  whole  assembly, 
among  whom  he  was  searching  for  the  king's  surgeon. 
Ambroise  Pare,  standing  in  a  corner,  caught  a  glance 
which  the  duke  cast  upon  him,  and  immediate!}'  ad- 
vanced. Ambroise,  who  at  this  time  was  inclined  to 
the  reformed  religion,  eventually  adopted  it ;  but  the 
friendship  of  the  Guises  and  that  of  the  kings  of 
France  guaranteed  him  against  the  evils  which  over- 
took his  co-religionists.  The  duke,  who  considered 
himself  under  obligations  for  life  to  Ambroise  Pare,  had 
lately  caused  him  to  be  appointed  chief-surgeon  to  the 
king. 

''What  is  it,  monseigneur?"  said  Ambroise.  "Is 
the  king  ill?     I  think  it  likely.'' 

^*  Likely?   Why?" 

"  The  queen  is  too  pretty,"  replied  the  surgeon. 

"  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  the  duke  in  astonishment.  "  How- 
ever, that  is  not  the  matter  now,"  he  added  after  a 
pause.  "  Ambroise,  I  want  you  to  see  a  friend  of 
yours."  So  saving  he  drew  him  to  the  door  of  the 
council-room  and  showed  him  Christophe. 

**Ha!  true,  monseigneur,"  cried  the  surgeon,  extend- 
ing his  hand  to  the  young  furrier.  "  How  is  your 
father,  my  lad  ?  " 

''Very  well,  Maitre  Ambroise,"  replied  Christophe. 

"What  are  you  doing  at  court?"  asked  the  sur- 
geon. **  It  is  not  your  business  to  carry  parcels  ;  3'our 
father  intends  you  for  the  law.  Do  3'ou  want  the  pro- 
tection of  these  two  great  princes  to  make  you  a 
solicitor." 

"  Indeed  I  do !  "  said  Christophe;  "but  I  am  here 


I 


154  Catherine  de*  Medici, 

only  in  the  interests  of  m}-  father ;  and  if  3-011  could 
intercede  for  us,  please  do  so,-'  he  added  in  a  piteous 
tone  ;  "and  ask  the  Grand  Master  for  an  order  to  pa}^ 
certain  sums  that  are  due  to  my  father,  for  he  is  at  his 
wit's  end  just  now  for  money.*' 

The  cardinal  and  the  duke  glanced  at  each  other  and 
seemed  satisfied. 

''Now  leave  us,"  said  the  duke  to  the  surgeon,  mak- 
ing him  a  sign.  "And  you  my  friend,"  turning  to 
Christophe ;  "do  3'our  errand  quickly  and  return  to 
Paris.  My  secretary  will  give  you  a  pass,  for  it  is  not 
safe,  mordieu,  to  be  travelling  on  tlie  high-roads !  " 

Neither  of  the  brothers  formed  the  slightest  suspicion 
of  the  grave  importance  of  Christophers  errand,  con- 
vinced, as  the}"  now  were,  that  he  was  really  the  son  of 
the  good  Catholic  Lecamus,  the  court  furrier,  sent  to 
collect  pa3'ment  for  their  wares. 

"Take  him  close  to  the  door  of  the  queen's  chamber ; 
she  will  probabl}-  ask  for  him  soon,"  said  the  cardinal 
to  the  surgeon,  motioning  to  Christophe. 

While  the  son  of  the  furrier  was  undergoing  this 
brief  examination  in  the  council-chamber,  the  king, 
leaving  the  queen  in  compan3-  with  her  mother-in-law, 
had  passed  into  his  dressing-room,  which  was  entered 
through  another  small  room  next  to  the  chamber. 

Standing  in  the  wide  recess  of  an  immense  window, 
Catherine  looked  at  the  gardens,  her  mind  a  prey  to 
painful  thoughts.  She  saw  that  in  all  probabilit3'  one 
of  the  greatest  captains  of  the  age  would  be  foisted 
that  very  da3'  into  the  place  and  power  of  her  son,  the 
king  of  France,  under  tlie  formidable  title  of  lieutenant- 
general  of  the  kingdom.     Before  this  peril  she  stood 


i 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  15^ 

alone,  without  power  of  action,  without  defence.  She 
might  have  been  likened  to  a  phantom,  as  she  stood 
there  in  her  mourning  garments  (which  she  had  not 
quitted  since  the  death  of  Henri  II.),  so  motionless 
was  her  pallid  face  in  the  grasp  of  her  bitter  reflections. 
Her  black  eyes  floated  in  that  species  of  indecision  for 
which  great  statesmen  are  so  often  blamed,  though  it 
comes  from  the  vast  extent  of  the  glance  with  which 
they  embrace  all  difficulties,  —  setting  one  against  the 
other,  and  adding  up,  as  it  were,  all  chances  before 
deciding  on  a  course.  Her  ears  rang,  her  blood  tingled, 
and  yet  she  stood  there  calm  and  dignified,  all  the 
while  measuring  in  her  soul  the  depths  of  the  political 
abyss  which  lay  before  her,  like  the  natural  depths 
which  rolled  away  at  her  feet.  This  day  was  the 
second  of  those  terrible  da3's  (that  of  the  arrest  of  the 
Vidame  of  Chartres  having  been  the  first)  which  she 
was  destined  to  meet  in  so  r^rreat  numbers  throusfhout 
her  regal  life  ;  it  also  witnessed  her  last  blunder  in  the 
school  of  power.  Though  the  sceptre  seemed  escaping 
from  her  hands,  she  wished  to  seize  it;  and  she  did 
seize  it  by  a  flash  of  that  power  of  will  which  was 
never  relaxed  by  either  the  disdain  of  her  father-in-law, 
Francois  I.,  and  his  court,  —  where,  in  spite  of  her  rank 
of  dauphiness,  she  had  been  of  no  account, — or  the 
constant  repulses  of  her  husband,  Henri  II.,  and  the 
terrible  opposition  of  her  rival,  Diane  de  Poitiers.  A 
man  would  never  have  fathomed  this  thwarted  queen  ; 
but  the  fair-haired  Mar}^  —  so  subtle,  so  clever,  so 
girlish,  and  already  so  well-trained  — examined  her  out 
of  the  corners  of  her  eyes  as  she  hummed  an  Italian  air 
and  assumed  a  careless  countenance.     Without  beinsr 


i 


156  Catherine  de^  Medici. 

able  to  guess  the  storms  of  repressed  ambition  which 
sent  the  dew  of  a  cold  sweat  to  the  forehead  of  the 
Florentine,  the  pretty  Scotch  girl,  with  her  wilful, 
piquant  face,  knew  ver}'  well  that  the  advancement  of 
her  uncle  the  Due  de  Guise  to  the  lieutenant-general- 
ship of  the  kingdom  was  filling  the  queen-mother  with 
inward  rage.  Nothing  amused  her  more  than  to  watch 
her  mother-in-law,  in  whom  she  saw  onl}'  an  intriguing 
woman  of  low  birth,  alwa3's  read}'  to  avenge  herself. 
The  face  of  the  one  was  grave  and  gloom}-,  and  some- 
what terrible,  b}^  reason  of  the  livid  tones  which  trans- 
form the  skin  of  Italian  women  to  3'ellow  ivory  by 
daylight,  though  it  recovers  its  dazzling  brilliancy  under 
candlelight ;  the  face  of  the  other  was  fair  and  fresh  and 
ga}^  At  sixteen,  Marj*  Stuart's  skin  had  that  exquisite 
blond  whiteness  which  made  her  beauty  so  celebrated. 
Her  fresh  and  piquant  face,  with  its  pure  lin^s,  shone 
with  the  roguish  mischief  of  childhood,  expressed  in 
the  regular  eyebrows,  the  vivacious  e3'es,  and  the  arch- 
ness of  the  pretty  mouth.  Alread}'  she  displayed  those 
feline  graces  which  nothing,  not  even  captivity  nor  the 
sight  of  her  dreadful  scaffold,  could  lessen.  The  two 
queens  —  one  at  the  dawn,  the  other  in  the  midsum- 
mer of  life  —  presented  at  this  moment  the  utmost 
contrast.  Catherine  was  an  imposing  queen,  an  im- 
penetrable widow,  without  other  passion  than  that  of 
power.  Mar}-  was  a  light-hearted,  careless  bride,  making 
pla3'things  of  her  triple  crowns.  One  foreboded  great 
evils, —  foreseeing  the  assassination  of  the  Guises  as  the 
only  means  of  suppressing  enemies  who  were  resolved 
to  rise  above  the  Throne  and  the  Parliament ;  foreseeing 
also  the  bloodshed  of  a  long  and  bitter  struggle;  while 


Catherine  cW  Medici.  157 

the  other  little  anticipated  her  own  judicial  murder. 
A  sudden  and  straime  reflection  calmed  the  mind  of 
the  Italian. 

"  That  sorceress  and  Ruggiero  both  declare  this  reign 
is  coming  to  an  end  ;  m}^  difficulties  will  not  last  long/' 
she  thought. 

And  so,  strangely  enough,  an  occult  science  forgotten 
in  our  day  —  that  of  astrology  —  supported  Catherine 
at  this  moment,  as  it  did,  in  fact,  throughout  her  life ; 
for,  as  she  witnessed  the  minute  fulfilment  of  the 
prophecies  of  those  who  practised  the  art,  her  belief  in 
it  steadil}'  increased. 

"You  are  very  gloom}',  madame,"  said  Mary  Stuart, 
taking  from  the  hands  of  her  waiting-woman,  Da^'elle, 
a  little  cap  and  placing  the  point  of  it  on  the  parting 
of  her  hair,  while  two  wings  of  rich  lace  surrounded  the 
tufts  of  blond  curls  which  clustered  on  her  temples. 

The  pencil  of  many  painters  have  so  frequently 
represented  this  head-dress  that  it  is  thought  to  have 
belonged  exclusively  to  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  ;  whereas 
it  was  really  invented  by  Catherine  de'  Medici,  when 
she  put  on  mourning  for  Henri  II.  But  she  never 
knew  how  to  wear  it  with  the  grace  of  her  daughter- 
in-law,  to  whom  it  was  becoming.  This  annoyance  was 
not  the  least  among  the  many  which  the  queen-mother 
cherished  against  the  young  queen. 

"Is  the  queen  reproving  me?"  said  Catherine, 
turning  to  Mar3\ 

"  I  owe  you  all  respect,  and  should  not  dare  to  do 
so,"  said  the  Scotish  queen,  maliciousl}-,  glancing  at 
Dayelle. 

Placed  between  the  rival  queens,  the  favorite  waiting- 


158  Catlicrlne  de'  Medici, 

•womjin  stood  rigid  as  an  andiron  ;  a  smile  of  comprehen- 
sion might  have  cost  her  her  life. 

''  Can  I  be  as  ga}'  as  3'ou,  after  losing  the  late  king, 
and  now  beholding  my  son's  kingdom  about  to  burst 
into  flames?'* 

"  Public  affairs  do  not  concern  women,"  said  Mary 
Stuart.     "  Besides,  ni}*  uncles  are  there." 

These  words  were,  under  the  circumstances,  like  so 
many  poisoned  arrows. 

*^  Let  us  look  at  our  furs,  madame,"  replied  the  Ital- 
ian, sarcastically-;  ''that  will  emplo}'  us  on  our  legiti- 
mate female  affairs  while  ^our  uncles  decide  those  of 
the  kingdom." 

''Oh!  but  we  will  go  to  the  Council,  madame;  we 
shall  be  more  useful  than  you  think." 

"  We  !  "  said  Catherine,  with  an  air  of  astonishment. 
"  But  I  do  not  understand  Latin,  myself" 

"  You  think  me  verj-  learned,"  cried  Mary  Stuart, 
laughing,  "  but  I  assure  3'ou,  madame,  I  studj'  onl}'  to 
reach  the  level  of  the  Medici,  and  learn  how  to  cure 
the  wounds  of  the  kingdom." 

Catherine  was  silenced  by  this  sharp  thrust,  which 
referred  to  the  origin  of  the  Medici,  who  were  descended, 
some  said,  from  a  doctor  of  medicine,  others  from  a  rich 
dru2fo;ist.  She  made  no  direct  answer.  Davelle  colored 
as  her  mistress  looked  at  her,  asking  for  the  applause 
that  even  queens  demand  from  their  inferiors  if  there 
are  no  other  spectatoi's. 

"Your  charming  speeches,  madame,  will  unfortunateh' 
cure  the  wounds  of  neither  Church  nor  State,"  said 
Catherine  at  last,  with  her  calm  and  cold  dignit}^  "  The 
science   of  my    fathers   in  that  direction  gave   them 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  159 

thrones ;  whereas  if  vou  continue  to  trifle  in  the  midst 
of  (lano^er  vou  are  liable  to  lose  yours." 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Ambroise  Pare,  the  cliief 
surgeon,  scratched  softl}^  on  the  door,  and  Madame 
Dayelle,  opening  it,  admitted  Christophe. 


160  Catherine  de'  Medici, 


VII. 


A    DRAMA   IN   A    SUKCOAT. 

The  3'oung  reformer  intended  to  study  Catherine's 
face,  all  the  while  affecting  a  natural  embarrassment  at 
finding  himself  in  such  a  place ;  but  his  proceedings 
were  much  hastened  bv  the  eas^erness  with  which  the 
younger  queen  darted  to  the  cartons  to  see  her  surcoat. 

"•  Madame,"  said  Christophe,  addressing  Catherine. 

He  turned  his  back  on  the  other  queen  and  on  Day- 
elle,  instantly  profiting  by  the  attention  the  two  women 
were  eager  to  bestow  upon  the  furs  to  play  a  bold 
stroke. 

''  What  do  you  want  of  me?"  said  Catherine  giving 
Mm  a  searching  look. 

Christophe  had  put  the  treat}'  proposed  by  the  Prince 
de  Conde,  the  plan  of  the  Reformers,  and  the  detail  of 
their  forces  in  his  bosom  between  his  shirt  and  his  cloth 
jacket,  folding  them,  however,  within  the  bill  which 
Catherine  owed  to  the  furrier. 

''Madame,"  he  said,  "mj^  father  is  in  horrible  need 
of  money,  and  if  3'ou  will  deign  to  cast  3'our  ej  es  over 
your  bill,"  here  he  unfolded  the  paper  and  put  the 
treat}^  on  the  top  of  it,  ''3'ou  will  see  that  your  Ma- 
jesty owes  him  six  thousand  crowns.  Have  the  good- 
ness to  take  pity  on  us.     See,  madame  !  "  and  he  held 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  IGl 

Ihe  treaty  out  to  her.     "  Read  it ;  the  account  dates 
from  the  time  the  late  king  came  to  the  throne." 

Catherine  was  bewildered  b}^  the  preamble  of  the 
treaty  which  met  her  eye,  but  she  did  not  lose  her  head. 
>he  folded  the  paper  quickly,  admiring  the  audacit}' 
and  presence  of  mind  of  the  youth,  and  feeling  sure  that 
after  performing  such  a  masterh"  stroke  he  would  not 
fail  to  understand  her.  She  therefore  tapped  him  on 
the  head  with  the  folded  paper,  sa3ing  :  — 

'^  It  is  ver}'  clums}'  of  you,  my  little  friend,  to  present 
3'our  bill  before  the  furs.  Learn  to  know  women.  You 
lust  never  ask  us  to  pay  until  the  moment  when  we  are 
jatisfied." 
"  Is  that  traditional?"  said  the  young  queen,  turning 
her  mother-in-law,  who  made  no  reply. 
''Ah,  mesdames,  pray  excuse  my  father,"  said 
)hristo[)he.  "If  he  had  not  had  such  need  of  money 
rou  would  not  have  had  3*our  furs  at  all.  The  country 
in  arms,  and  there  are  so  man}^  dangers  to  run  in 
'getting  here  that  nothing  but  our  great  distress  would 
have  brought  me.  No  one  but  me  was  willing  to  risk 
them." 

"The  lad  is  new  to  his  business,"  said  Mary  Stuart, 
smiling. 

It  may  not  be  useless,  for  the  understanding  of  this 

trifling,  but  very  important  scene,  to  remark  that  a  sur- 

coat  was,  as  the  name  implies  {sur  cotte),  a  species  of 

jlose-fitting    spencer  which   women    wore   over    their 

)odies   and  down  to  their  thighs,  defining  the  figure. 

'his  garment   protected   the    back,  chest,   and  throat 

from    cold.      These    surcoats   were   lined    with   fur,    a 

^and  of  which,  wide  or  narrow  as  the  case  might  be 

11 


162  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

bordered  the  outer  material.  Mary  Stuart,  as  she  tried 
the  garment  on,  looked  at  herself  in  a  large  Venetian 
mirror  to  see  the  effect  behind,  thus  leaving  her  mother- 
in-law  an  opportunit}'  to  examine  the  papers,  the  bulk 
of  which  might  have  excited  the  young  queen's  suspi- 
cions had  she  noticed  it. 

"  Never  tell  women  of  the  dangers  jou  have  run 
when  you  have  come  out  of  them  safe  and  sound,"  she 
said,  turning  to  show  herself  to  Christophe. 

"  Ah  !  madame,  I  have  your  bill,  too,"  he  said,  look- 
ing at  her  with  well-plaj'ed  simplicit\'. 

The  3'oung  queen  eyed  him,  but  did  not  take  the 
paper  ;  and  she  noticed,  though  without  at  the  moment 
drawing  any  conclusions,  that  he  had  taken  her  bill 
from  his  pocket,  whereas  he  had  carried  Queen  Cathe- 
rine's in  his  bosom.  Neither  did  she  find  in  the  lad's 
eyes  that  glance  of  admiration  which  her  presence 
invariabl}'  excited  in  all  beholders.  Biit  she  was  so 
engrossed  by  her  surcoat  that,  for  the  moment,  she 
did  not  ask  herself  the  meaning  of  such  indifference. 

''  Take  the  bill,  Dayelle,"  she  said  to  her  waiting- 
woman  ;  "  give  it  to  Monsieur  de  Versailles  (Lomenie) 
and  tell  him  from  me  to  pay  it." 

''Oh!  madame,"  said  Christophe,  ''if  3'ou  do  not 
ask  the  king  or  monseigneur  the  grand-master  to  sign 
me  an  order  your  gracious  word  will  have  no  effect." 

''  You  are  rather  more  eager  than  becomes  a  subject, 
m}'  friend,"  said  Mary  Stuart.  ''Do  you  not  believe 
m}'  ro^al  word ?  " 

The  king  now  appeared,  in  silk  stockings  and  trunk- 
hose  (the  breeches  of  that  period),  but  without  his 
doublet  and  mantle ;  he  had,  however,  a  rich  loose  coat 
of  velvet  edged  with  minever. 


Catherine  dc'  Medici,  163 

"  Who  is  the  wretch  who  dares  to  doubt  your  word?  " 
he  said,  overhearing,  in  spite  of  the  distance,  his  wife's 
last  words. 

The  door  of  the  dressing-room   was  hidden  b}"  the 
roval  bed.     This  room  was  afterwards  called  '^the  old 
jabinet,'*    to   distinguish  it   from   the   fine   cabinet   of 
lictures  which  Henri  III.  constructed  at   the   farther 
ind  of  the  same  suite  of  rooms,  next  to  the  hall  of  the 
►tates-ofeneral.     It  was  in  the  old  cabinet  that  Henri 
11.  hid  the  murderers  when  he  sent  for  the  Due  de 
uise,  while  he  himself  remained  hidden  in  the  new 
jabinet  during  the  murder,  onl}'  emerging  in   time  to 
lee   the  overbearing  subject  for  whom  there  were  no 
longer  prisons,  tribunals,  judges,  nor  even  laws,  draw 
his  last  breath.     Were  it  not  for  these  terrible  circum- 
stances the  historian  of  to-day  could  hardly  trace  the 
former  occupation  of  these   cabinets,   now  filled  with 
soldiers.     A   quartermaster  writes   to  his  mistress  on 
the    ver}"    spot    where    the    pensive    Catherine    once 
decided  on  her  course  between  the  parties. 

"  Come  with  me,  my  friend,"  said  the  queen-mother, 
*'  and  I  will  see  that  3'ou  are  paid.  Commerce  must 
live,  and  money  is  its  backbone.*' 

"Go,  m}'  lad,'*  cried  the  young  queen,  laughing; 
"  mv  auojust  mother  knows  more  than  I  do  about 
commerce." 

Catherine  was  about  to  leave  the  room  without 
Replying  to  this  last  taunt ;  but  she  remembered  that 
ler  indifference  to  it  might  provoke  suspicion,  and  she 
mswered  hastilv :  — 
"  But  3'ou,  m}^  dear,  understand  the  business  of 
>ve.'* 


164  Catherine  cle'  Medici. 

Then  she  descended  to  her  own  apartments. 

"  Put  awa}'  these  furs,  Dayelle,  and  let  us  go  to  the 
Council,  monsieur,"  said  Mary  to  the  young  king, 
enchanted  with  the  opportunity  of  deciding  in  the 
absence  of  the  queen-mother  so  im})ortant  a  question  as 
the  lieutenant-generalship  of  the  kingdom. 

Mary  Stuart  took  the  king  s  arm.  Da^'elle  went  out 
before  them,  whispering  to  the  pag'es ;  one  of  whom  (it 
was  young  Teiigny,  who  afterwards  perished  so  miser- 
ably during  the  Saint-Bartholomew)  cried  out :  — 

''  The  king  !  " 

Hearing  the  words,  the  two  soldiers  of  the  guard 
presented  arms,  and  the  two  pages  went  forward  to  the 
door  of  the  Council-room  through  the  lane  of  courtiers 
and  that  of  the  maids  of  honor  of  the  two  queens.  All 
the  members  of  the  Council  then  grouped  themselves 
about  the  door  of  their  chamber,  which  was  not  very 
far  from  the  door  to  the  staircase.  The  grand-master, 
the  cardinal,  and  the  chancellor  advanced  to  meet  the 
3'oung  sovereigns,  who  smiled  to  several  of  the  maids  of 
honor  and  replied  to  the  remarks  of  a  few  courtiers 
more  privileged  than  the  rest.  But  the  queen,  evi- 
dently impatient,  drew  Francois  II.  as  quickl}'  as 
possible  toward  the  Council-chamber.  When  the  sound 
of  arquebuses,  dropping  heavilj^  on  the  floor  had  an- 
nounced the  entrance  of  the  couple,  the  pages  replaced 
their  caps  upon  their  heads,  and  the  private  talk  among 
the  courtiers  on  the  gravity  of  the  matters  now  about 
to  be  discussed  began  again. 

"  They  sent  Chivernj'  to  fetch  the  Connetable,  but  he 
has  not  come,"  said  one. 

^'  There  is  not  a  single  prince  of  the  blood  present," 
said  another. 


Catherine  dc'  Medici,  165 

"  The  chancellor  and  Monsieur  de  Tournon  looked 
anxious,"  remarked  a  third. 

''  The  grand-master  sent  word  to  the  keeper  of  the 
seals  to  be  sure  not  to  miss  this  Council ;  therefore  you 
may  be  certain  they  will  issue  letters-patent." 

"  Why  does  the  queen-mother  stay  in  her  own  apart- 
ments at  such  a  time?  " 

"  They  '11  cut  out  plenty  of  work  for  us,"  remarked 
Groslot  to  Cardinal  de  Ch^tillon. 

In  short,  ever}  body  had  a  word  to  say.  Some  went 
and  came,  in  and  out  of  the  great  hall ;  others  hovered 
about  the  maids  of  honor  of  both  queens,  as  if  it  might 
be  possible  to  catch  a  few  words  through  a  wall  three 
feet  thick  or  through  the  double  doors  draped  on  each 
side  with  heavy  curtains. 

Seated  at  the  upper  end  of  a  long  table  covered  with 
blue  velvet,  which  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  the 
king,  near  to  whom  the  3'oung  queen  was  seated  in  an 
arm-chair,  waited  for  his  mother.  Robertet,  the  secrc' 
tary,  was  mending  pens.  The  two  cardinals,  the  grand- 
master, the  chancellor,  the  keeper  of  the  seals,  and  all 
the  rest  of  the  council  looked  at  the  little  king,  wonder- 
ing why  he  did  not  give  them  the  usual  order  to  sit 
down. 

The  two  Lorrain  princes  attributed  the  queen- 
mother's  absence  to  some  trick  of  their  niece.  Incited 
presentl}'  by  a  significant  glance,  the  audacious  cardinal 
said  to  his  Majesty  :  — 

''Is  it  the  king's  good  pleasure  to  begin  the  council 
without  waiting  for  Madame  la  reine-mere? '' 

Francois  II.,  without  daring  to  answer  directly,  said : 
"  Messieurs,  be  seated." 


I 


166  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

The  cardinal  then  explained  siiccinctl}'  the  dangers 
of  the  situation.  This  great  political  character,  who 
showed  extraordinary^  abilitj'  under  these  pressing  cir- 
cumstances, led  up  to  the  question  of  the  lieutenancy 
of  the  kingdom  in  the  midst  of  the  deepest  silence. 
The  young  king  doubtless  felt  the  tyranny  that  was 
being  exercised  over  him  ;  he  knew  that  his  mother  had 
a  deep  sense  of  the  rights  of  the  Crown  and  was  fully  > 
aware  of  the  danger  that  threatened  his  power ;  he 
therefore  replied  to  a  positive  question  addressed  to 
him  by  the  cardinal  b}''  saying :  — 

'^  We  will  wait  for  the  queen,  my  mother." 
Suddenly  enlightened  b}^  the  queen- mother's  dela}'', 
Mary  Stuart  recalled,  in  a  flash  of  thought,  three  cir- 
cumstances which  now  struck  her  vividly:  first,  the  bulk 
of  the  papers  presented  to  her  mother-in-law,  which  she 
had  noticed,  absorbed  as  she  was,  —  for  a  woman  who 
seems  to  see  nothing  is  often  a  lynx ;  next,  the  place 
where  Christoi)he  had  carried  them  to  keep  them 
separate  from  hers:  "  Wh}^  so?"  she  thought  to 
herself;  and  thirdly,  she  remembered  the  cold,  indif- 
ferent glance  of  the  young  man,  which  she  suddenly 
attributed  to  the  hatred  of  the  Reformers  to  a  niece  of 
the  Guises.  A  voice  cried  to  her,  "  He  may  have  been 
an  emissary  of  the  Huguenots  I "  Obeying,  like  all 
excitable  natures,  her  first  impulse,  she  exclaimed :  — 
''  I  will  go  and  fetch  my  mother  myself !  " 
Then  she  left  the  room  hurriedh',  ran  down  the 
staircase,  to  the  amazement  of  the  courtiers  and  the 
ladies  of  honor,  entered  her  mother-in-law's  apartments, 
crossed  the  guard-room,  opened  the  door  of  the  cham- 
ber with  the  caution  of  a  thief,  glided  like  a  shadow 


Catherine  de*  Medici.  167 

over  the  carpet,  saw  no  one,  and  bethought  her  that  she 
should  surel}"  surprise  the  queen-mother  in  that  magnifi- 
cent dressing-room  which  comes  between  the  bedroom 
and  the  orator}-.  The  arrangement  of  tliis  orator}^,  to 
wln'ch  the  manners  of  that  period  gave  a  role  in  private 
life  like  that  of  the  boudoirs  of  our  day,  can  still  be 
traced. 

By  an  almost  inexplicable  chance,  when  we  consider 
the  state  of  dilapidation  into  which  the  Crown  has 
allowed  the  chateau  of  Blois  to  fall,  the  admirable 
woodwork  of  Catherine's  cabinet  still  exists ;  and  iu 
those  delicately  carved  panels,  persons  interested  in 
such  things  may  still  see  traces  of  Italian,  splendor, 
and  discover  the  secret  hiding  places  employed  b}-  the 
queen-mother.  An  exact  description  of  these  curious 
arrangements  is  necessar}-  in  order  to  give  a  clear  under- 
standing of  what  was  now  to  happen.  The  woodwork 
iof  the  oratory  then  consisted  of  about  a  hundred  and 
eighty  oblong  panels,  one  hundred  of  which  still  exist, 
all  presenting  arabesques  of  different  designs,  evidently 
suggested  by  the  most  beautiful  arabesques  of  Ital}'. 
The  wood  is  live-oak.  The  red  tones,  seen  through  tlie 
la3'er  of  whitewash  put  on  to  avert  cholera  (useless 
precaution!),  shows  very  plainly  that  the  ground  of 
the  panels  was  formerly  gilt.  Certain  portions  of  the 
design,  visible  where  the  wash  has  fallen  awa}*,  seem 
to  show  that  they  once  detached  themselves  from  the 
gilded  ground  in  colors,  either  blue,  or  red,  or  green. 
The  multitude  of  these  panels  shows  an  evident  inten- 
tion to  foil  a  search  ;  but  even  if  this  could  be  doubted, 
the  concierge  of  the  chdteau,  while  devoting  the  memory 
of  Catherine  to  the  execration  of  the  humanity  of  our 


168  Catherine  de    Medici. 

da3^,  shows  at  the  base  of  these  panels  and  close  to  the 
floor  a  rather  heavy  foot-board,  which  can  be  lifted,  and 
beneath  which  still  remain  the  ingenious  springs  which 
move  the  panels.  B3'  pressing  a  knob  thus  hidden,  the 
queen  was  able  to  open  certain  panels  known  to  her 
alone,  behind  which,  sunk  in  the  wall,  were  hiding- 
places,  oblong  like  the  panels,  and  more  or  less  deep. 
It  is  difficult,  even  in  these  days  of  dilapidation,  for  the 
best-trained  eye  to  detect  whicii  of  those  panels  is  thus 
hinged  ;  but  when  the  eye  was  distracted  \)y  colors  and 
gilding,  cleverly-  used  to  conceal  the  joints,  we  can 
readily  conceive  that  to  find  one  or  two  such  panels 
among  two  hundred  was  almost  an  impossible  thing. 

At  the  moment  when  Mar}'  Stuart  laid  her  hand  on 
the  somewhat  complicated  lock  of  the  door  of  this 
oratory,  the  queen-mother,  who  had  just  become  con- 
vinced of  the  greatness  of  the  Prince  de  Conde's  plans, 
had  touched  the  spring  hidden  beneath  the  foot-board, 
and  one  of  the  mysterious  panels  had  turned  over  on 
its  hinges.  Catherine  was  in  the  act  of  lifting  the 
papers  from  the  table  to  hide  them,  intending  after 
that  to  secure  the  safet}'  of  the  devoted  messenger 
who  had  brought  them  to  her,  w^ien,  hearing  the  sudden 
opening  of  the  door,  she  at  once  knew  that  none  but 
Queen  Mary  herself  would  dare  thus  to  enter  without 
announcement. 

"You  are  lost!"  she  said  to  Christophe,  perceiving 
that  she  could  no  longer  put  away  the  papers,  nor 
close  with  sufficient  rapidity  the  open  panel,  the  secret 
of  which  was  now  betraAed. 

Christophe  answered  her  with  a  glance  that  w^as 
sublime. 


I 

I 


I 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  169 

^•^  Povero  mio ! ''  said  Catherine,  before  she  looked 
at  her  daughter-in-law.  '*  Treason,  madame  !  1  hold 
the  traitors  at  last,"  she  cried.  "  Send  for  the  duke 
and  the  cardinal ;  and  see  that  that  man/*  pointing 
^o  Christophe,  ''  does  not  escape." 

In  an  instant  the  able  woman  had  seen  the  necessity 
of  sacrificing  the  poor  3'outh.  She  could  not  hide  him  ; 
it  was  impossible  to  save  him.  Eight  days  earlier  it 
might  have  been  done  ;  but  the  Guises  now  knew  of  the 
plot ;  they  must  alread}'  possess  the  lists  she  held  in 
her  hand,  and  were  evidentl}^  drawing  the  Reformers 
into  a  trap.  Thus,  rejoiced  to  find  in  these  adversaries 
the  very  spirit  she  desired  them  to  have,  her  policy 
now  led  her  to  make  a  merit  of  the  discovery  of  their 
plot.  These  horrible  calculations  were  made  during 
the  rapid  moment  while  the  3'oung  queen  was  opening 
the  door.  Marv  Stuart  stood  dumb  for  an  instant :  the 
gay  look  left  her  eyes,  which  took  on  the  acuteness  that 
suspicion  gives  to  the  63x8  of  all,  and  which,  in  hers, 
became  terrible  from  the  suddenness  of  the  chansre. 
She  glanced  from  Christophe  to  the  queen-mother  and 
from  the  queen-mother  back  to  Christophe.  —  her  face 
expressing  malignant  doubt.  Then  she  seized  a  bell, 
at  the  sound  of  which  one  of  the  queen-mother's  maids 
of  honor  came  running  in. 

•'  Mademoiselle  du  Rouet,  send  for  the  captain  of 
the  guard,"  said  Mary  Stuart  to  the  maid  of  honor, 
contrary  to  all  etiquette,  which  was  necessaril}'  violated 
under  the  circumstances. 

While  the  3'oung  queen  gave  this  order,  Catherine 
looked  intently  at  Christophe,  as  if  saying  to  him, 
''Courage!*' 


170  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

The  Reformer  understood,  and  replied  by  another 
glance,  which  seemed  to  sa}',  '^Sacrifice  me,  as  they 
have  sacrificed  me  !  " 

''  Rel}'  on  me,"  said  Catherine  by  a  gesture.  Then 
she  absorbed  herself  in  the  documents  as  her  daughter- 
in-law  turned  to  him. 

"You  belong  to  the  Reformed  religion?''  inquired 
Mar}^  Stuart  of  Christophe. 

"Yes,  madame,"  he  answered. 

"I  was  not  mistaken,"  she  murmured  as  she  again 
noticed  in  the  e3'es  of  the  3'oung  Reformer  the  same 
cold  glance  in  which  dislike  was  hidden  beneath  an  ex- 
pression of  humih't}'. 

Pardaillan  suddenly  appeared,  sent  by  the  two  Lor- 
rain  princes  and  b}'  the  king  to  escort  the  queens.  The 
captain  of  the  guard  called  for  by  Mary  Stuart  followed 
the  young  officer,  who  was  devoted  to  the  Guises. 

"  Go  and  tell  the  king  and  the  grand-master  and  the 
cardinal,  from  me,  to  come  here  at  once,  and  say  that  I 
should  not  take  the  liberty  of  sending  for  them  if  some- 
thing of  the  utmost  importance  had  not  occurred.  Go, 
Pardaillan.  — *As  for  you,  Lewiston,  keep  guard  over 
that  traitor  of  a  Reformer,"  she  said  to  the  Scotchman 
in  his  mother-tongue,  pointing  to  Christophe. 

The  young  queen  and  queen-mother  maintained  a 
total  silence  until  the  arrival  of  the  king  and  princes. 
The  moments  that  elapsed  were  terrible. 

Mary  Stuart  had  betrayed  to  her  mother-in-law,  in 
its  fullest  extent,  the  part  her  uncles  were  inducing  her 
to  pla}' ;  her  constant  and  habitual  distrust  and  espion- 
age were  now  revealed,  and  her  young  conscience  told 
her  how  dishonoring  to  a  great  queen  was  the  work 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  171 

that  she  was  doing.  Catherine,  on  the  other  hand,  had 
yielded  out  of  fear  ;  she  was  still  afraid  of  being  rightly 
understood,  and  she  trembled  for  her  future.  Both 
women,  one  ashamed  and  angr^',  the  other  filled  with 
hatred  and  yet  calm,  went  to  the  embrasure  of  the 
window  and  leaned  against  the  casing,  one  to  right, 
the  other  to  left,  silent ;  but  their  feelings  were  ex- 
pressed in  such  speaking  glances  that  they  averted 
their  eyes  and,  with  mutual  artfulness,  gazed  through 
the  window  at  the  sky.  These  two  great  and  superior 
women  had,  at  this  crisis,  no  greater  art  of  behavior 
than  the  vulgarest  of  their  sex.  Perhaps  it  is  alwaj'S 
thus  when  circumstances  arise  which  overwhelm  the 
human  being.  There  is,  inevitabl}',  a  moment  when 
genius  itself  feels  its  littleness  in  presence  of  great 
catastrophes. 

As  for  Christophe,  he  was  like  a  man  in  the  act  of 
rolling  down  a  precipice.  Lewiston,  the  Scotch  cap- 
tain, listened  to  this  silence,  watching  the  son  of  the 
furrier  and  the  two  queens  with  soldierl}^  curiosity. 
The  entrance  of  the  king  and  Mary  Stuart's  two  uncles 
put  an  end  to  the  painful  situation. 


172  Catherine  de'  Medici, 


VIII. 

MARTYRDOM. 

The  cardinal  went  straight  to  the  queen-mother. 

"  I  hold  the  threads  of  the  conspirac}'  of  the  here- 
tics," said  Catherhie.  '^  Tliey  have  sent  me  this  treaty 
and  these  documents  by  the  hands  of  that  child/'  she 
added. 

During  the  time  that  Catherine  was  explaining  mat- 
ters to  the  cardinal,  Queen  Mary  whispered  a  few  words 
to  the  grand-master. 

''What  is  all  this  about?"  asked  the  3'oung  king, 
who  was  left  alone  in  the  midst  of  the  violent  clash  of 
interests. 

"The  proofs  of  what  I  was  telling  to  3'our  Majesty 
have  not  been  long  in  reaching  us,"  said  the  cardinal, 
who  had  grasped  the  papers. 

The  Due  de  Guise  drew  his  brother  aside  without 
caring  that  he  interrupted  him,  and  said  in  his  ear, 
"  This  makes  me  lieutenant-general  without  opposition." 

A  shrewd  glance  was  the  cardinal's  only  answer ; 
showing  his  brother  that  he  fully  understood  the  advan- 
tages to  be  gained  from  Catherine's  false  position. 

"  Who  sent  you  here?  "  said  the  duke  to  Christophe. 

"  Chaudieu,  the  minister,"  he  replied. 

"  Young  man, you  lie  !  "  said  the  soldier,  sharply  ;  "it 
was  the  Prince  de  Conde." 


Catherine  de    Medici.  173 

■  *'Tlie  Prince  de  Conde,  monseigneur ! "  replied 
Christophe,  with  a  puzzled  look.  "  I  never  met  him. 
I  am  studying  law  with  Monsieur  de  Thou  ;  I  am  his 
secretary,  and  he  does  not  know  that  I  belong  to  the 
Reformed  religion.  I  yielded  only  to  the  entreaties  of 
the  minister." 

"  Enouo:h  ! ''  exclaimed  the  cardinal.  "Call  Mon- 
sieur  de  Robertet,"  he  said  to  Lewiston,  "for  this 
young  scamp  is  sl3'er  than  an  old  statesman  ;  he  has 
managed  to  deceive  m}'  brother,  and  me  too ;  an  hour 
ago  I  would  have  given  him  the   sacrament   without 

tsonfession." 
"You  are  not  a  child,  morhleu!'^  cried  the  duke, 
*  and  we  Ul  treat  3'ou  as  a  man." 

"  The  heretics  have  endeavored  to  beofuile  vour 
august  mother,"  said  the  cardinal,  addressing  the  king, 
and  trying  to  draw  him  apart  to  win  him  over  to  their 
ends. 

"  Alas  !  "  said  the  queen-mother  to  her  son,  assum- 
ing a  reproachful  look  and  stopping  the  king  at  the 
moment  when  the  cardinal  was  leading  him  into  the  or- 
atory to  subject  him  to  his  dangerous  eloquence,  "you 
see  the  result  of  the  situation  in  which  I  am  ;  Xh^y  think 
me  irritated  by  the  little  influence  that  I  have  in  public 
affairs,  —  I,  the  mother  of  four  princes  of  the  house  of 
Valois !  " 

The  young  king  listened  attentivel}'.  Mar}'  Stuart, 
seeing  the  frown  upon  his  brow,  took  his  arm  and  led 
him  away  into  the  recess  of  the  window,  where  she 
cajoled  him  with  sweet  speeches  in  a  low  voice,  no 
doubt  like  those  she  had  used  that  morning  in  their 
chamber.     The  two  Guises  read  the  documents  given 


174  Catherine  de!  Medici. 

up  to  them  by  Catherine.  Finding  that  they  contained 
information  which  their  spies,  and  Monsieur  Brague- 
lonne,  the  lieutenant  of  the  Chatelet,  had  not  obtained, 
the}'  were  inclined  to  believe  in  the  sincerity  of  Cath- 
erine de'  Medici.  Robertet  came  and  received  certain 
secret  orders  relative  to  Christophe.  The  youthful 
instrument  of  the  leaders  of  the  Reformation  was  then 
led  away  by  four  soldiers  of  the  Scottish  guard,  who 
took  him  down  the  stairs  and  delivered  him  to  Monsieur 
de  Montresor,  provost  of  the  chateau.  That  terrible 
personage  himself,  accompanied  b}^  six  of  his  men,  con- 
ducted Christophe  to  the  prison  in  the  vaulted  cellar  of 
the  tower,  now  in  ruins,  which  the  concierge  of  the  cha- 
teau de  Blois  shows  vou  with  the  information  that 
these  were  the  dungeons. 

After  such  an  event  the  Council  could  be  only  a 
formality.  The  king,  the  young  queen,  the  Grand- 
master, and  the  cardinal  returned  to  it,  taking  with 
them  the  vanquished  Catherine,  who  said  no  word 
except  to  approve  the  measures  proposed  by  the 
Guises.  In  spite  of  a  slight  opposition  from  the  Chan- 
celier  Olivier  (the  onl}"  person  present  who  said  one 
word  that  expressed  the  independence  to  which  his 
office  bound  him),  the  Due  de  Guise  was  appointed 
lieutenant-general  of  the  kingdom.  Robertet  brought 
the  required  documents,  showing  a  devotion  which 
might  be  called  collusion.  The  king,  giving  his  arm  to 
his  mother,  recrossed  the  salle  des  gardes.^  announcing 
to  the  court  as  he  passed  along  that  on  the  following 
da}'  he  should  leave  Blois  for  the  chateau  of  Amboise. 
The  latter  residence  had  been  abandoned  since  the 
time  when  Charles  VIII.  accidentally  killed  himself  by 


I 


Catherine  de   Medici.  175 

striking  his  head  against  the  casing  of  a  door  on  which 
he  had  ordered  carvings,  supposing  that  he  could  enter 
without  stooping  below  the  scafifolding.  Catherine,  to 
Umask  the  plans  of  the  Guises,  remarked  aloud  that  they 
intended  to  complete  the  chateau  of  Amboise  for  the 
Crown  at  the  same  time  that  her  own  chateau  of  Che- 
nonceaux  was  finished.  But  no  one  was  the  dupe  of 
that  pretext,  and  all  present  awaited  great  events. 

After  spending  about  two  hours  endeavoring  to  see 
where  he  was  in  the  obscurity  of  the  dungeon,  Chris- 
tophe  ended  by  discovering  that  the  place  was  sheathed 
in  rougli  woodwork,  thick  enough  to  make  the  square 
l^hole  into  which  he  was  put  both  health}^  and  habitable. 
The  door,  like  that  of  a  pig-pen,  was  so  low  that  he 
stooped  almost  double  on  entering  it.  Beside  this  door 
was  a  heavy  iron  grating,  opening  upon  a  sort  of  corri- 
dor, which  gave  a  little  light  and  a  little  air.  This 
arrangement,  in  all  respects  like  that  of  the  dungeons 
of  Venice,  showed  plainly  that  the  architecture  of  the 
chateau  of  Blois  belonged  to  the  Venetian  school,  wiiich 
during  the  Middle  Ages,  sent  so  many  builders  into  all 
parts  of  Europe.  By  tapping  this  species  of  pit  above 
the  woodwork  Christophe  discovered  that  the  walls 
which  separated  his  cell  to  right  and  left  from  the 
adjoining  ones  were  of  brick.  Striking  one  of  them  to 
get  an  idea  of  its  thickness,  he  was  somewhat  surprised 
to  hear  return  blows  given  on  the  other  side. 

'*  Who  are  30U?*'  said  his  neighbor,  speaking  to 
him  through  the  corridor. 

"  I  am  Christophe  Lecamus." 

"  I,''  replied  the  voice,  "  am  Captain  Chaudieu,  brother 
of  the   minister.     I   was   taken   prisoner    to-night    at 


176  Catherine  de'  Medici. 


Beaugency ;    but,    luckil}-,   there    is    nothing    against 


me." 


''All  is  discovered,"  said  Christophe ;  "you  are  for- 
tunate to  be  saved  from  the  fray." 

''  We  have  three  thousand  men  at  this  moment  in 
the  forests  of  the  Vendomois,  all  determined  men,  who 
mean  to  abduct  the  king  and  the  queen-mother  during 
their  journe}'.  Happily  La  Renaudie  was  cleverer  than 
I ;  he  managed  to  escape.  You  had  only  just  left  us 
when  the  Guise  men  surprised  us  — " 

"  But  I  don^t  know  La  Renaudie." 

"Pooh  !  my  brother  has  told  me  all  about  it,"  said 
the  captain. 

Hearing  that,  Christophe  sat  down  upon  his  bench 
and  made  no  further  answer  to  the  pretended  captain, 
for  he  knew  enough  of  the  police  to  be  aware  how 
necessary  it  was  to  act  with  prudence  in  a  prison.  In 
the  middle  of  the  night  he  saw  the  pale  light  of  a 
lantern  in  the  corridor,  after  hearing  the  ponderous 
locks  of  the  iron  door  which  closed  the  cellar  groan  as 
they  were  turned.  The  provost  himself  had  come  to 
fetch  Christophe.  This  attention  to  a  prisoner  who  had 
been  left  in  his  dark  dungeon  for  hours  without  food, 
struck  the  poor  lad  as  singular.  One  of  the  provost's 
men  bound  his  hands  with  a  rope  and  held  him  by  the 
end  of  it  until  they  reached  one  of  the  lower  halls  of 
the  chateau  of  Louis  XII.,  which  was  evidently  the 
antechamber  to  the  apartments  of  some  important 
personage.  The  provost  and  his  man  bade  him  sit 
upon  a  bench,  and  the  man  then  bound  his  feet  as  he 
had  before  bound  his  hands.  On  a  sign  from  Monsieur 
de  Montresor  the  man  left  the  room. 


I 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  177 


"  Now  listen  to  me,  my  friend,"  said  the  provosts 
marslial,  toying  with  the  collar  of  the  Order;  for,  late  aa 
the  hour  was,  he  was  in  full  uniform. 
^  This  little  circumstance  gave  the  young  man  several 
^^TOOughts ;  he  saw  that  all  was  not  over ;  on  the  con^ 
trarv,  it  was  evidently  neither  to  hang  nor  yet  to 
condemn   him   that  he   was    brought  there. 

**  My  friend,  you  may  spare  yourself  cruel  torture  by 
tellincr  rne  all  vou  know  of  the  understanding  betweeu 
Monsieur  le  Prince  de  Conde  and  Queen  Catherine, 
Not  onlv  will  no  harm  be  done  to  you,  but  vou  shall 
enter  the  service  of  Monseigneur  the  lieutenant-general 
of  the  kingdom,  who  likes  intelligent  men  and  on  whom 
your  honest  face  has  produced  a  good  impression.  The 
queen-mother  is  about  to  be  sent  back  to  Florence,  and 
Monsieur  de  Conde  will  no  doubt  be  brought  to  trial. 
Therefore,  believe  me,  humble  folks  ought  to  attach 
themselves  to  the  gi*eat  men  who  are  in  power.  Tel) 
me  all ;  and  you  will  find  your  profit  in  it." 

''Alas,  monsieur,"  replied  Christophe ;  **I  have 
nothing  to  tell.  I  told  all  I  know  to  Messieurs  de 
Guise  in  the  queen's  chamber.  Chaudieu  persuaded 
me  to  put  those  papers  under  the  e^'es  of  the  queen- 
mother  ;  assuring  me  that  the}'  concerned  the  peace  of 
the  kingdom." 

''You  have  never  seen  the  Prince  de  Conde?" 

"  Never." 

"Thereupon  Monsieur  de  Montresor  left  Christophe 
and  went  into  the  adjoining  room  ;  but  the  3'outh  was 
not  left  long  alone.  The  door  through  which  he  had 
been  brought  opened  and  gave  entrance  to  several 
men,  who  did  not  close  it.     Sounds  that  were  far  from 

12 


178  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

reassuring  were  heard  from  the  court3'ard ;  men  were 
bringing  wood  and  machinery',  evidently  intended  for  the 
punishment  of  the  Reformer's  messenger.  Christophers 
anxiety  soon  had  matter  for  reflection  in  the  prepara- 
tions which  were  made  in  the  hall  before  his  eyes. 

Two  coarse  and  ill- dressed  serving-men  obeyed  the 
orders  of  a  stout,  squat,  vigorous  man,  who  cast  upon 
Christophe,  as  he  entered,  the  glance  of  a  cannibal  on 
his  victim ;  he  looked  him  over  and  estimated  him,  — 
measuring,  like  a  connoisseur,  the  strength  of  his  nerves, 
tlieir  power  and  their  endurance.  The  man  was  the 
executioner  of  Blois.  Coming  and  going,  his  assistants 
brought  in  a  mattress,  several  mallets  and  wooden 
wedges,  also  planks  and  other  articles,  the  use  of  which 
was  not  plain,  nor  their  look  comforting  to  the  poor 
boy  concerned  in  these  preparations,  whose  blood  now 
curdled  in  his  veins  from  a  vague  but  most  terrible  ap- 
prehension. Two  personages  entered  the  hall  at  the 
moment  when  Monsieur  de  Montresor  reappeared. 

"  Hey,  nothing  read}' !  "  cried  the  provost-marshal, 
to  whom  the  new-comers  bowed  with  great  respect. 
''  Don't  you  know,"  he  said,  addressing  the  stout  man 
and  his  two  assistants,  "  that  Monseigneur  the  cardinal 
thinks  you  already  at  work?  Doctor,"  added  the  pro- 
vost, turning  to  one  of  the  new-comers,  ''this  is  the 
man  ;  "  and  he  pointed  to  Christophe. 

The  doctor  went  straight  to  the  prisoner,  unbound 
his  hands,  and  struck  him  on  the  breast  and  back. 
Science  now  continued,  in  a  serious  manner,  the  trucu- 
lent examination  of  the  executioner's  eye.  During 
this  time  a  servant  in  the  liver\'  of  the  house  of 
Guise  brought  in  several  arm-chairs,  a  table,  and 
writing-materials. 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  179 

"Begin  the  proces  verbal^**  said  Monsieur  de  Mon- 
tresor,  motioning  to  the  table  the  second  personage, 
who  was  dressed  in  black,  and  was  evidentl}'  a  clerk. 
Then  the  provost  went  up  to  Christophe,  and  said  to 
him  in  a  very  gentle  way  :  "  My  friend,  the  chancellor, 
having  learned  that  you  refuse  to  answer  me  in  a 
satisfactory'  manner,  decrees  that  you  be  put  to  the 
question,  ordinary  and  extraordinarj'." 

''Is  he  in  good  health,  and  can  he  bear  it?"  said 
the  clerk  to  the  doctor. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  latter,  who  was  one  of  the 
phj'sicians  of  the  house  of  Lorraine. 

''In  that  case,  retire  to  the  next  room  ;  we  will  send 
for  you  whenever  we  require  3'our  advice." 

The  physician  left  the  hall. 

His  first  terror  having  passed,  Christophe  rallied  his 
courage  ;  the  hour  of  his  martyrdom  had  come.  Thence- 
forth he  looked  with  cold  curiosit}'  at  the  arrangements 
that  were  made  by  the  executioner  and  his  men.  After 
hastily  preparing  a  bed,  the  two  assistants  got  ready 
certain  appliances  called  boots ;  which  consisted  of 
several  planks,  between  which  each  leg  of  the  victim 
was  placed.  The  legs  thus  placed  were  brought  close 
together.  The  apparatus  used  by  binders  to  press  their 
volumes  between  two  boards,  which  they  fasten  by 
cords,  will  give  an  exact  idea  of  the  manner  in  which 
each  leg  of  the  prisoner  was  bound.  We  can  imagine 
the  effect  produced  by  the  insertion  of  wooden  wedges, 
driven  in  by  hammers  between  the  planks  of  the  two 
bound  legs,  —  the  two  set  of  planks  of  course  not  yield- 
ing, being  themselves  bound  together  b}'  ropes.  These 
wedges  were  driven  in  on  a  line  with  the  knees  and  the 


180  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

ankles.  The  choice  of  these  places  where  there  is  little 
flesh,  and  where,  consequently,  the  wedge  could  only  be 
forced  in  by  crushing  the  bones,  made  this  form  of  torture, 
called  the  ''  question,"  horribly  painful.  In  the  "  ordi- 
nary question  "  four  wedges  were  driven  in,  —  two  at  the 
knees,  two  at  the  ankles;  but  in  the  '^extraordinary 
question"  the  number  was  increased  to  eight,  providea 
the  doctor  certified  that  the  prisoner's  vitalit}^  was  not 
exhausted.  At  the  time  of  which  we  write  the  "  boots  '* 
were  also  applied  in  the  same  manner  to  the  hands  and 
wrists ;  but,  being  pressed  for  time,  the  cardinal,  the 
lieutenant-general,  and  the  chancellor  spared  Christophe 
that  additional  suffering. 

The  2^roces  verbal  was  begun ;  the  provost  dictated  a 
few  sentences  as  he  walked  up  and  down  with  a  med- 
itative air,  asking  Christophe  his  name,  baptismal  name, 
age,  and  profession  ;  then  he  inquired  the  name  of  the 
person  from  whom  he  had  received  the  papers  he  had 
given  to  the  queen. 

"  From  the  minister  Chaudieu,"  answered  Christophe. 

"  Where  did  he  give  them  to  you?" 

"  In  Paris." 

"In  giving  them  to  you  he  must  have  told  3'ou 
whether  the  queen-mother  would  receive  you  with 
pleasure?" 

"He  told  me  nothing  of  that  kind,"  replied  Chris- 
tophe. "  He  merely  asked  me  to  give  them  to  Queen 
Catherine  secretl3\" 

"  You  must  have  seen  Chaudieu  frequentlj',  or  he 
would  not  have  known  that  3'ou  were  going  to  Blois." 

"The  minister  did  not  know  from  me  that  in  carrying 
furs  to  the  queen  I  was  also  to  ask  on  my  father's  behalf 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  181 

for  the  mone}"  the  queen- mother  owes  him  ;  and  I  did 
not  have  time  to  ask  the  minister  who  had  told 
him  of  it." 

*'  But  these  papers,  which  were  given  to  yow  without 
being  sealed  or  enveloped,  contained  a  treaty  between 
the  rebels  and  Queen  Catherine.  You  must  have  seen 
that  the}^  exposed  you  to  the  punishment  of  all  those 
who  assist  in  a  rebellion." 

'^Yes." 

"The  persons  who  persuaded  3'ou  to  this  act  of 
high  treason  must  have  promised  you  rewards  and  the 
protection  of  the  queen-mother.'* 

"I  did  it  out  of  attachment  to  Chaudieu,  the  only 
person  whom  I  saw  in  the  matter." 

''  Do  you  persist  in  saying  you  did  not  see  the  Prince 
deConde?" 

''Yes." 

"The  Prince  de  Conde  did  not  tell  you  that  the 
queen-mother  was  inclined  to  enter  into  his  views 
against  the  Messieurs  de  Guise?  " 

"  I  did  not  see  him." 

"  Take  care  !  one  of  your  accomplices,  La  Renaudie, 
has  been  arrested.  Strong  as  he  is,  he  was  not  able  to 
bear  the  "question,'*'  which  will  now  be  put  to  you  ;  he 
confessed  at  last  that  both  he  and  the  Prince  de  Conde 
had  an  interview  with  3'ou.  If  you  wish  to  escape  the  tor- 
ture of  the  question,  I  exhort  you  to  tell  me  the  simple 
truth.     Perhaps  you  will  thus  obtain  your  full  pardon." 

Christophe  answered  that  he  could  not  state  a  thing 
of  which  he  had  no  knowledge,  or  give  himself  accom- 
plices when  he  had  none.  Hearing  these  words,  the 
provost-marshal  signed  to  the  executioner  and  retired 


182  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

himself  to  the  inner  room.  At  that  fatal  sign  Chris- 
tophers brows  contracted,  his  forehead  worked  with 
nervous  convulsion,  as  he  prepared  himself  to  sutler. 
His  hands  closed  with  such  violence  that  the  nails  en- 
tered the  flesh  without  his  feeling  them.  Three  men 
seized  him,  took  him  to  the  camp  bed  and  laid  him 
there,  letting  his  legs  hang  down.  While  the  execu- 
tioner fastened  him  to  the  rough  bedstead  with  strong 
cords,  the  assistants  bound  his  legs  into  the  ''boots." 
Presently  the  cords  were  tightened,  by  means  of  a 
wrench,  without  the  pressure  causing  much  pain  to  the 
3'oung  Reformer.  When  each  leg  was  thus  held  as  it 
were  in  a  vice,  the  executioner  grasped  his  hammer  and 
picked  up  the  wedges,  looking  alternately  at  the  victim 
and  at  the  clerk. 

"  Do  you  persist  in  3'our  denial?  "  asked  the  clerk. 

"  I  have  told  the  truth,"  replied  Christophe. 

"Verj'well.     Go  on,"  said  the  clerk,  closing  his  eyes. 

The  cords  were  tightened  with  great  force.  This 
was  perhaps  the  most  painful  moment  of  the  torture  ; 
the  flesh  being  suddenl}^  compressed,  the  blood  rushed 
violentl}'  toward  the  breast.  The  poor  boy  could  not 
restrain  a  dreadful  cry  and  seemed  about  to  faint.  The 
doctor  was  called  in.  After  feeling  Christophe's  pulse, 
he  told  the  executioner  to  wait  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
before  driving  the  first  wedge,  to  let  the  action  of  the 
blood  subside  and  allow  the  victim  to  recover  his  full 
sensitiveness.  The  clerk  suggested,  kindly,  that  if  he 
could  not  bear  this  beginning  of  sufferings  which  he 
could  not  escape,  it  would  be  better  to  reveal  all  at 
once ;  but  Christophe  made  no  repl}^  except  to  say, 
"  The  king's  tailor  I  the  king's  tailor !  " 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  183 

"What  do  you  mean  by  those  words?"  asked  the 
clerk. 

"  Seeing  what  torture  I  must  bear,"  said  Christophe, 
slowly,  hoping  to  gain  time  to  rest,  "  I  call  up  all  my 
strength,  and  try  to  increase  it  by  thinking  of  the  mar- 
tyrdom borne  by  the  king's  tailor  for  the  hoi}"  cause  of 
the  Reformation,  when  the  question  was  applied  to  him 
in  presence  of  Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Valentiuois  and 
the  king.     I  shall  tr}^  to  be  w^orthy  of  him.'' 

While  the  physician  exhorted  the  unfortunate  lad  not 
to  force  them  to  have  recourse  to  more  violent  meas- 
ures, the  cardinal  and  the  duke,  impatient  to  know  the 
result  of  the  interrogations,  entered  the  hall  and  them- 
selves asked  Christophe  to  speak  the  truth,  immediately. 
The  young  man  repeated  the  only  confession  he  had 
allowed  himself  to  make,  which  implicated  no  one  but 
Chaudieu.  The  princes  made  a  sign,  on  which  the  ex- 
ecutioner and  his  chief  assistant  seized  their  hammers, 
taking  each  a  wedge,  which  they  then  drove  in  between 
the  joints,  standing  one  to  right,  the  other  to  left  of 
their  victim ;  the  executioner's  wedge  was  driven  in 
at  the  knees,  his  assistant's  at  the  ankles. 

The  eyes  of  all  present  fastened  on  those  of  Chris- 
tophe, and  he,  no  doubt  excited  by  the  presence  of 
those  great  personages,  shot  forth  such  burning  glances 
tiiat  they  appeared  to  have  all  the  brilliancy  of  flame. 
As  the  third  and  fourth  wedges  were  driven  in,  a  dread- 
ful groan  escaped  him.  When  he  saw  the  executioner 
take  up  the  wedges  for  the  ''extraordinary  question'' 
he  said  no  word  and  made  no  sound,  but  his  e^'es  took 
on  so  terrible  a  fixity,  and  he  cast  upon  the  two  great 
princes  who  were  watching  him  a  glance  so  penetrating, 


184  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

that  the  duke  and  cardinal  were  forced  to  drop  their 
eyes.  Philippe  le  Bel  met  with  the  same  resistance 
when  the  torture  of  the  pendulum  was  applied  in  his 
presence  to  the  Templars.  That  punishment  consisted 
in  striking  the  victim  on'the  breast  with  one  arm  of  the 
balance-pole  with  which  mone}'  is  coined,  its  end  being 
covered  with  a  pad  of  leather.  One  of  the  knights  thus 
tortured,  looked  so  intentl}-  at  the  king  that  Philippe 
could  not  detach  his  eyes  from  him.  At  the  third  blow 
the  king  left  the  chamber  on  hearing  the  knight  sum- 
mon him  to  appear  within  a  year  before  the  judgment- 
seat  of  God,  —  as,  in  fact,  he  did.  At  the  fifth  blow, 
the  first  of  the  '*  extraordinary  question,'*  Christophe 
said  to  the  cardinal :  ''  Monseigneur,  put  an  end  to  my 
torture  ;  it  is  useless." 

The  cardinal  and  the  duke  re-entered  the  adjoining 
hall,  and  Christophe  distinctly  heard  the  following  words 
said  by  Queen  Catherine  :  "  Go  on  ;  after  all,  he  is  only 
a  heretic." 

She  judged  it  prudent  to  be  more  stern  to  her  accom- 
plice than  the  executioners  themselves. 

The  sixth  and  seventh  wedges  were  driven  in  with- 
out a  w^ord  of  complaint  from  Christophe.  His  face 
shone  with  extraordinarj^  brillianc}',  due,  no  doubt,  to 
the  excess  of  strength  which  his  fanatic  devotion  gave 
him.  Where  else  but  in  the  feelings  of  the  soul  can 
we  find  the  power  necessarj'  to  bear  such  sufferings? 
Finally,  he  smiled  when  he  saw  the  executioner  lifting 
the  eighth  and  last  wedge.  This  horrible  torture  had 
lasted  bv  this  time  over  an  hour. 

The  clerk  now  went  to  call  the  ph3'sician  that  he 
might  decide  whether  the  eighth  wedge  could  be  driven 


i 


Catherine  cle   Medici,  185 

It 

in  without  endangering  the  life  of  the  victim.  During 
this  delay  the  duke  returned  to  look  at  Christophe. 
IK  *'  Ventre-dc'hlche ! "  3'ou  are  a  fine  fellow,"  he  said 
•  to  him,  bending  down  to  whisper  the  words.  "  I  love 
brave  men.  Enter  my  service,  and  you  shall  be  rich 
and  happy  ;  m}'  favors  shall  heal  those  wounded  limbs. 
I  do  not  propose  to  3'ou  any  baseness ;  I  will  not 
ask  you  to  return  to  your  party  and  betraj'  its  plans,  — 
there  are  always  traitors  enough  for  that,  and  the  proof 
is  in  the  prisons  of  Blois  ;  tell  me  only  on  what  terms 
are  the  queen-mother  and  the  Prince  de  Conde.*' 

"  I  know  nothing  about  it,  monseigneur,"  replied 
Christophe  Lecamus. 

The  physician  came,  examined  the  victim,  and  said 
that  he  could  bear  the  eighth  wedge. 

**Then  insert  it,"  said  the  cardinal.  "After  all,  as 
the  queen  sa^'s,  he  is  only  a  heretic,"  he  added,  looking 
at  Christophe  with  a  dreadful  smile. 

At  this  moment  Catherine  came  with  slow  steps 
from  the  adjoining  apartment  and  stood  before  Chris- 
tophe, coldly  observing  him.  Instantl}'  she  was  the 
object  of  the  closest  attention  on  the  part  of  the  two 
brothers,  who  watched  alternately  the  queen  and  her 
accomplice.  On  this  solemn  test  the  whole  future  of 
that  ambitious  woman  depended  ;  she  felt  the  keenest 
admiration  for  Christophe,  3'et  she  gazed  sternly  at 
him ;  she  hated  the  Guises,  and  she  smiled  upon  them  ! 

"Young  man,"  said  the  queen,  '* confess  that  you 
have  seen  the  Prince  de  Conde,  and  you  will  be  richly 
rewarded." 

"Ah!  what  a  business  this  is  for  3'ou,  madame ! " 
cried  Christophe,  pitying  her. 


186  Catherine  d^  Medici, 

The  queen  quivered. 

''He  insults  me!"  she  exclaimed.  "Why  do  3'ou 
not  hang  him?"  she  cried,  turning  to  the  two  brothers, 
who  stood  thoughtful. 

"  What  a  woman  !  "  said  the  duke  in  a  glance  at  his 
brother,  consulting  him  bj'  his  eye,  and  leading  him  to 
the  window. 

*'  I  shall  stay  in  France  and  be  revenged  upon  them,'* 
thought  the  queen.  ''  Come,  make  him  confess,  or  let 
him  die !  "  she  said  aloud,  addressing  Montresor. 

The  provost- marshal  turned  away  his  eyes,  the  exe- 
cutioners were  busy  wuth  the  wedges ;  Catherine  was 
free  to  east  one  glance  upon  the  martyr,  unseen  by 
others,  which  fell  on  Christophe  like  tlie  dew.  The 
eyes  of  the  great  queen  seemed  to  him  moist ;  two  tears 
were  in  them,  but  the}'  did  not  fall.  The  wedges  were 
driven  ;  a  plank  was  broken  by  the  blow.  Christophe 
gave  one  dreadful  cr}',  after  which  he  was  silent ;  his 
face  shone,  —  he  believed  he  was  dying. 

''Let  him  die?"  said  the  cardinal,  echoing  the 
queen's  last  words  with  a  sort  of  irony  ;  "no,  no  ! 
don't  break  that  thread,"  he  said  to  the  provost. 

The  duke  and  the  cardinal  consulted  together  in  a 
low  voice. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  with  him?"  asked  the  execu- 
tioner. 

"  Send  him  to  the  prison  at  Orleans,"  said  the  duke, 
addressing  Monsieur  de  Montresor ;  *'  and  don't  hang 
him  without  my  order."    ' 

The  extreme  sensitiveness  to  which  Christophers 
internal  orgranism  had  been  brought,  increased  bv  a 
resistance   which   called   into  play  evory  power  of  the 


I 


I 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  18/ 

human  bod^^  existed  to  the  same  degree,  in  his  senses. 
He  alone  heard  the  following  words  whispered  by  the 
Due  de  Guise  in  the  ear  of  his  brother  the  cardinal : 

"•  I  don't  give  up  all  hope  of  getting  the  truth  out  of 
that  little  fellow  yet." 

When  the  princes  had  left  the  hall  the  executioners 
unbound  the  legs  of  their  victim  roughly  and  without 
compassion. 

''  Did  any  one  ever  see  a  criminal  with  such  strength  ?  " 
said  the  chief  executioner  to  his  aids.  *'  The  rascal 
bore  that  last  wedge  when  he  ought  to  have  died ;  1  've 
lost  the  price  of  his  body." 

"  Unbind  me  gently  ;  don't  make  me  suffer,  friends," 
said  poor  Christophe.  *'  Some  day  I  will  reward 
you  —  " 

"Come,  come,  show  some  humanity,"  said  the  phy- 
sician. ''Monseigneur  esteems  the  young  man,  and 
told  me  to  look  after  him." 

''  I  am  going  to  Amboise  with  m}^  assistants,  —  take 
care  of  him  yourself,"  said  the  executioner,  brutally. 
''Besides,   here  comes  the  jailer." 

The  executioner  departed,  leaving  Christophe  in  the 
hands  of  the  soft-spoken  doctor,  who  b}"  the  aid  of 
Christophe's  future  jailer,  carried  the  poor  boy  to  a  bed, 
brought  him  some  broth,  helped  him  to  swallow  it,  sat 
down  beside  him,  felt  his  pulse,  and  tried  to  comfort 
him. 

"You  won't  die  of  this,"  he  said.  "You  ought  to 
feel  great  inward  comfort,  knowing  that  you  have  done 
your  duty.  —  The  queen-mother  bids  me  take  care  of 
you,"  he  added  in  a  whisper. 

"The  queen  is  very  good,"  said  Christophe,  whose 


188  Catherine  de^  Medici, 

terrible  sufferings  had  developed  an  extraordinary 
lucidity  in  his  mind,  and  who,  after  enduring  such 
unspeakable  sulTerings,  was  determined  not  to  com- 
promise the  results  of  his  devotion.  "  But  she  might 
have  spared  me  such  agony  by  telling  my  persecutors 
herself  the  secrets  that  I  know  nothing  about,  instead 
of  urging  them  on." 

Hearing  that  repl}',  the  doctor  took  his  cap  and  cloak 
and  left  Christophe,  rightly  judging  that  he  could  worm 
nothing  out  of  a  man  of  that  stamp.  The  jailer  of 
Blois  now  ordered  the  poor  lad  to  be  carried  away  on  a 
stretcher  by  four  men,  who  took  him  to  the  prison  in 
the  town,  where  Christophe  immediately  fell  into  the 
deep  sleep  which,  the^'  sa}',  comes  to  most  mothers 
after  the  terrible  pangs  of  childbirth. 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  189 


IX. 


THE   TUMULT   AT   AMBOISE, 


Br  moving  the  court  to  the  ehdteau  of  Amboise, 
the  two  Lorrain  princes  intended  to  set  a  trap  for  the 
leader  of  the  party  of  the  Reformation,  the  Prince  de 
Conde,  whom  they  had  made  the  king  summon  to  his 
presence.  As  vassal  of  the  Crown  and  prince  of  the 
blood,  Conde  was  bound  to  obey  the  summons  of  his 
sovereign.  Not  to  come  to  Amboise  would  constitute 
the  crime  of  treason  ;  but  if  he  came,  he  put  himself  in 
the  power  of  the  Crown.  Now,  at  this  moment,  as  we 
have  seen,  the  Crown,  the  council,  the  court,  and  all 
their  powers  were  solel}'  in  the  hands  of  the  Due  de 
Guise  and  the  Cardinal  de  Lorraine.  The  Prince  de 
Cond^  showed,  at  this  delicate  crisis,  a  presence  of 
mind  and  a  decision  and  wiliness  which  made  him  the 
worthy  exponent  of  Jeanne  d'Albret  and  the  valorous 
general  of  the  Reformers.  He  travelled  at  the  rear 
of  the  conspirators  as  far  as  Vendome,  intending  to 
support  them  in  case  of  their  success.  When  the  first 
uprising  ended  by  a  brief  skirmish,  in  which  the  flower 
of  the  nobility  beguiled  b^^  Calvin  perished,  the  prince 
arrived,  with  fiftv  noblemen,  at  the  chateau  of  Amboise 
on  the  very  day  after  that  fight,  which  the  politic  Guises 
termed  '*the  Tumult  of  Amboise."  As  soon  as  the 
duke  and  cardinal  heard  of  his  coming  they  sent  the 


190  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

Mareclial  de  Saint-Andre  with  an  escort  of  a  hun- 
dred men  to  meet  him.  When  tlie  prince  and  his  own 
escort  reached  the  gates  of  the  chMeau  the  marechal 
refused  entrance  to  the  latter. 

''You  must  enter  alone,  monseigneur,"  said  the 
Chancellor  Olivier,  the  Cardinal  de  Tournon,  and 
Birago,  who  were  stationed  outside  of  the  portcullis. 

''And  why?" 

"  You  are  suspected  of  treason,"  replied  the 
chancellor. 

The  prince,  who  saw  that  his  suite  were  already  sur- 
rounded by  the  troop  of  the  Due  de  Nemours,  replied 
tranquilly  :  *'  If  that  is  so,  I  will  go  alone  to  my  cousin, 
and  prove  to  him  my  innocence." 

He  dismounted,  talked  with  perfect  freedom  of  mind 
to  Birago,  the  Cardinal  de  Tournon,  the  chancellor, 
and  the  Due  de  Nemours,  from  whom  he  asked  for 
particulars  of  the  "tumult.'' 

"  Monseigneur,"  replied  the  duke,  "  the  rebels  had 
confederates  in  Amboise.  A  captain,  named  Lanoue, 
had  introduced  armed  men,  who  opened  the  gate  to 
them,  through  which  they  entered  and  made  themselves 
masters  of  the  town  —  " 

"That  is  to  sa}',  you  opened  the  mouth  of  a  sack, 
and  they  ran  into  it,"  replied  the  prince,  looking  at 
Birasfo. 

"If  the}'  had  been  supported  b}'  the  attack  which 
Captain  Chaudieu,  the  preacher's  brother,  was  expected 
to  make  before  the  gate  of  the  Bon-Hommes,  they  would 
have  been  completeh'  successful,"  replied  the  Due  de 
Nemours.  "  But  in  consequence  of  the  position  which 
,  the   Due  de  Guise  ordered   me   to  take   up.  Captain 


I 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  191 


Chandieii  was  obliged  to  turn  m}'  flank  to  avoid  a  fight. 
So  instead  of  arriving  In'  night,  like  the  rest,  this  rebel 
and  his  men  got  there  at  daybreak,  by  which  time  the 

I  king's  troops  had  crushed  the  invaders  of  the  town." 
''And  you  had  a  reserve  force  to  recover  the  gate 
which  had  been  opened  to  them  ?  "  said  the  prince. 
'    "  Monsieur  le  Marechal  de  Saint- Andre  was  there 
with  five  hundred  men-at-arms." 

The  prince  gave  the  highest  praise  to  these  militar}'' 
arrangements. 

'*The  lieutenant-general  must  have  been  fully  aware 
of  the  plans  of  the  Reformers,  to  have  acted  as  he 
did,"  he  said  in  conclusion.  "The}'  were  no  doubt 
betrayed.^' 

The  prince  was  treated  with  increasing  harshness. 
After  separating  him  from  his  escort  at  the  gates,  the 
cardinal  and  the  chancellor  barred  his  way  when  he 
reached  the  staircase  which  led  to  the  apartments  of 
the  king. 

''We  are  directed  by  his  Majesty,  monseigneur,  to 
take  you  to  your  own  apartments,"  they  said. 

"Am  I,  then,  a  prisoner?" 

"If  that  were  the  king's  intention  you  would  not 
be  accompanied  b\'  a  prince  of  the  Church,  nor  by  me," 
replied  the  chancellor. 

These  two  personages  escorted  the  prince  to  an 
apartment,  where  guards  of  honor  —  so-called  —  were 
given  him.  There  he  remained,  without  seeing  any 
one,  for  some  hours.  From  his  window  he  looked  down 
upon  the  Loire  and  the  meadows  of  the  beautiful  valley 
stretching  from  Amboise  to  Tours.  He  was  reflecting 
on  the  situation,  and  asking  himself  whether  the  Guises 


192  Catherine  de'  Medici » 

would  reall}^  dare  anything  against  his  person,  when 
the  door  of  his  chamber  opened  and  Chicot,  the  king's 
fool,  formerly  a  dependant  of  his  own,  entered  the 
room. 

''The}'  told  me  you  were  in  disgrace,''  said  the 
prince. 

''You'd  never  believe  how  virtuous  the  court  has 
become  since  the  death  of  Henri  II." 

"But  the  king  loves  a  laugh." 

"Which  king,  —  Fran9ois  II.,  or  Francois  de 
Lorraine  ?" 

"You  are  not  afraid  of  the  duke,  if  you  talk  in 
that  wa}' ! " 

"He  wouldn't  punish  me  for  it,  monseigneur," 
replied  Chicot,  laughing. 

"  To  what  do  I  owe  the  honor  of  this  visit?" 

"Hey!  Isn't  it  due  to  you  on  your  return?  I 
bring  you  my  cap  and  bells." 

"Can  I  go  out?" 

"Try." 

"  Suppose  I  do  go  out,  what  then?" 

"  I  should  say  that  you  had  won  the  game  by  playing 
against  the  rules." 

"  Chicot,  3'ou  alarm  me.  Are  3'ou  sent  here  b}^  some 
one  who  takes  an  interest  in  me  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Chicot,  nodding.  He  came  nearer  to 
the  prince,  and  made  him  understand  that  they  were 
being  watched  and  overheard. 

"What  have  3'ou  to  say  to  me  ?"  asked  the  Prince 
de  Conde,  in  a  low  voice. 

"Boldness  alone  can  pull  3'ou  out  of  this  scrape; 
the  message  comes  from  the  queen -mother,"  replied  the 
fool,  slipping  his  words  into  the  ear  of  the  prince. 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  193 

"Tell  tliose  who  sent  yon,"  replied  Conrle,  "that  I 
should  not  have  entered  this  chateau  if  I  had  anything 
to  reproach  myself  with,  or  to  fear." 

"  I  rush  to  report  that  loft}^  answer !  "  cried  the  fool. 

Two  hours  later,  that  is,  about  one  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  before  the  king's  dinner,  the  chancellor  and 
Cardinal  de  Tournon  came  to  fetch  the  prince  and  pre- 
sent him  to  Francois  II.  in  the  great  galler}'  of  the 
chateau  of  Amboise,  where  the  councils  were  held. 
There,  before  the  whole  court,  Conde  pretended  sur- 
prise at  the  coldness  with  which  the  little  king  received 
him,  and  asked  the  reason  of  it. 

"  You  are  accused,  cousin,"  said  the  queen-mother, 
sternly,  "  of  taking  part  in  the  conspiracy  of  the  Re- 
formers ;  and  you  must  prove  yourself  a  faithful  subject 
and  a  good  Catholic,  if  you  do  not  desire  to  draw  down 
upon  your  house  the  anger  of  the  king." 

Hearing  these  words  said,  in  the  midst  of  the  most 
profound  silence,  by  Catherine  de'  Medici,  on  whose 
right  arm  the  king  was  leaning,  the  Due  d'Orleans 
being  on  her  left  side,  the  Prince  de  Conde  recoiled 
three  steps,  laid  his  hand  on  his  sword  with  a  proud 
motion,  and  looked  at  all  the  persons  who  surrounded 
him. 

"Those  who  said  that,  madame,"  he  cried  in  an  an- 
gry voice,  "  lied  in  their  throats  !  " 

Then  he  flung  his  glove  at  the  king's  feet,  saying : 
"  Let  him  who  believes  that  calumny  come  forward  !  " 

The  whole  court  trembled  as  the  Due  de  Guise  was 
seen  to  leave  his  place ;  but  instead  of  picking  up  the 
glove,  he  advanced  to  the  intrepid  hunchback. 

'*  If  3'ou  desire  a  second  in  that  duel,  monseigneur, 

13 


I 


194  Catherine  dc'  Medici. 

do  me  the  honor  to  accept  my  services,"  he  said.  "I 
will  answer  for  3'ou  ;  I  know  that  you  will  show  the  Re- 
formers how  mistaken  they  are  if  they  think  to  have 
vou  for  their  leader." 

The  prince  was  forced  to  take  the  hand  of  the  lieu- 
tenant-general of  the  kingdom.  Chicot  picked  up  the 
glove  and  returned  it  to  Monsieur  de  Conde. 

'*  Coijsin,"  said  the  little  king,  "you  must  draw  your 
sword  onh'  for  the  defence  of  the  kingdom.  Come  and 
dine."         , 

The  Cardinal  de  Lorraine,  surprised  at  his  brother's 
action,  drew  him  awa}'  to  his  own  apartments.  The 
Prince  de  Conde,  having  escaped  his  apparent  danger, 
offered  his  hand  to  Mary  Stuart  to  lead  her  to  the  din- 
ing hall ;  but  all  the  while  that  he  made  her  flattering 
speeches  he  pondered  in  his  mind  what  trap  the  astute 
Balafre  was  setting  for  him.  In  vain  he  worked  his 
brains,  for  it  was  not  until  Queen  Mary  herself  betrayed 
it,  that  he  guessed  the  intention  of  the  Guises. 

'^  'T  would  have  been  a  great  pit}'/'  she  said  laugh- 
ing, "if  so  clever  a  head  had  fallen;  you  must  admit 
that  m}'  uncle  has  been  generous." 

'^  Yes,  madame ;  for  my  head  is  ox\\y  useful  on  my 
shoulders,  though  one  of  them  is  notoriously'  higher 
than  the  other.  But  is  this  really  your  uncle's  gener- 
osity? Is  he  not  getting  the  credit  of  it  rather  cheapl}? 
Do  3'ou  think  it  would  be  so  easj^  to  take  off  the  head 
of  a  prince  of  the  blood  ?  " 

"  All  is  not  over  yet,"  she  said.  "We  shall  see  what 
your  conduct  will  be  at  the  execution  of  the  noblemen, 
3'our  friends,  at  w^hich  the  Council  has  decided  to  make 
a  great  public  display  of  severity." 


___  Catherine  de'  Medici.  195 

IP     *'  I  shall  do,"  said  the  prince,  "  whatever  the  king 

does." 
wm     "  '^^^  ki"o9  t^^^   queen-mother,   and  myself  will  be 
present  at  the  execution,  together  with  the  whole  court 
and  the  ambassadors  —  " 

"  A  fete  I  "  said  the  prince,  sarcastically. 

''Better  than  that,"  said  the  young  queen,  "an  act 
of  faiths  an  act  of  the  highest  polic3^  'Tis  a  question 
of  forcing  the  noblemen  of  France  to  submit  themselves 
to  the  Crown,  and  compelling  them  to  give  up  their 
tastes  for  i3lots  and  factions  —  " 
IK  "  You  will  not  break  their  belligerent  tempers  by 
the  show  of  danger,  madame  ;  jou  will  risk  the  Crown 
itself  in  the  attempt,"  replied  the  prince. 

At. the  end  of  the  dinner,  which  was  gloomy  enough, 
Queen  Mary  had  the  cruel  boldness  to  turn  the  conver- 
sation openl}'  upon  the  trial  of  the  noblemen  on  the 
charge  of  being  seized  with  arms  in  their  hands,  and  to 
speak  of  the  necessit}'  of  making  a  great  public  show 
of  their  execution. 

"  Madame,"  said  Franqois  II.,  "  is  it  not  enough  for 
the  king  of  France  to  know  that  so  much  brave  blood 
is  to  flow?     Must  he  make  a  triumph  of  it?  ** 

"  No,  sire  ;  but  an  example,"  replied  Catherine. 

"  It  was  the  custom  of  vour  father  and  vour  grand- 
father  to  be  present  at  the  burning  of  heretics,"  said 
Mary  Stuart. 

''The  kings  who  reigned  before  me  did  as  they 
thought  best,  and  I  choose  to  do  as  I  please,"  said  the 
little  king. 

"Philip  the  Second,"  remarked  Catherine,  "who  is 
certainly  a  great  king,  lately  postponed  an  auto  da 


196  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

fe  until  he  could  return  from  the  Low  Countries  to 
Valladolid." 

'^What  do  3'ou  think,  cousin?'*  said  the  king  to 
Prince  de  Conde. 

"  Sire,  you  cannot  avoid  it,  and  the  papal  nuncio  and 
all  the  ambassadors  should  be  present.  I  shall  go  will- 
ingly', as  these  ladies  take  part  in  the  fete." 

Thus  the  Prince  de  Conde,  at  a  glance  from  Cathe- 
rine de'  Medici,  bravely  chose  his  course. 

At  the  moment  when  the  Prince  de  Conde  was  enter- 
ing the  chateau  d'Amboise,  Lecamus,  the  furrier  of  the 
two  queens,  was  also  arriving  from  Paris,  brought  to 
Amboise  by  the  anxiety  into  which  the  news  of  the 
tumult  had  thrown  both  his  family  and  that  of  Lallier. 
When  the  old  man  presented  himself  at  the  gate  of  the 
chateau,  the  captain  of  the  guard,  on  hearing  that  he 
was  the  queens'  furrier,  said  :  — 

"  My  good  man,  if  you  want  to  be  hanged  you  have 
onl}^  to  set  foot  in  this  courtj'ard." 

Hearing  these  words,  the  father,  in  despair,  sat  down 
on  a  stone  at  a  little  distance  and  waited  until  some 
retainer  of  the  two  queens  or  some  servant-w^oman 
might  pass  who  would  give  him  news  of  his  son.  But 
he  sat  there  all  daj'  without  seeing  any  one  whom  he 
knew,  and  was  forced  at  last  to  go  down  into  the  town, 
where  he  found,  not  without  some  difficult}',  a  lodging 
in  a  hostelry  on  the  public  square  where  the  executions 
took  place.  He  was  obliged  to  paj'  a  pound  a  day  to 
obtain  a  room  with  a  window  looking  on  the  square. 
The  next  da}^  he  had  the  courage  to  w^atch,  from  his 
window,  the  execution  of  all  the  abettors  of  the  rebel- 


,_.  Catherine  de'  Medici.  197 

P 

lion  who  were  condemned  to  be  broken  on  the  wheel 
or  hanged,  as  persons  of  little  importance.  He  was 
happy  indeed  not  to  see  his  own  son  among  the  victims. 

When  the  execution  was  over  he  went  into  the  square 
and  put  himself  in  the  way  of  the  clerk  of  the  court. 
After  giving  his  name,  and  slipping  a  purse  full  of 
crowns  into  the  man's  hand,  he  begged  him  to  look  on 
the  records  and  see  if  the  name  of  Christophe  Lecamua 
appeared  in  either  of  the  three  preceding  executions. 
The  clerk,  touched  by  the  manner  and  the  tones  of  the 
despairing  father,  took  him  to  his  own  house.  After  a 
careful  search  he  was  able  to  give  the  old  man  an  abso- 
lute assurance  that  Christophe  was  not  among  the 
persons  thus  far  executed,  nor  among  those  who  were 
to  be  put  to  death  within  a  few  days. 

^'My  dear  man,"  said  the  clerk,  '^Parliament  has 
taken  charge  of  the  trial  of  the  great  lords  implicated 
in  the  affair,  and  also  that  of  the  principal  leaders. 
Perhaps  your  son  is  detained  in  the  prisons  of  the 
chateau,  and  he  may  be  brought  forth  for  the  magni- 
ficent execution  which  their  P^xcellencies  the  Due  de 
Guise  and  the  Cardinal  de  Lorraine  are  now  preparing. 
The  heads  of  twenty-seven  barons,  eleven  counts,  and 
seven  marquises,  —  in  all,  fifty  noblemen  or  leaders  of  the 
Keformers,  —  are  to  be  cut  off.  As  the  justiciary  of  the 
county  of  Touraine  is  quite  distinct  from  that  of  the 
parliament  of  Paris,  if  you  are  determined  to  know 
about  your  son,  I  advise  you  to  go  and  see  the  Chan- 
celier  Olivier,  who  has  the  management  of  this  great 
trial  under  orders  from  the  lieutenant-general  of  the 
kingdom." 

The  poor  old  man,  acting  on  this  advice,  went  three 


198  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

times  to  see  the  chancellor,  standing  in  a  long  queue 
of  persons  waiting  to  ask  mercy  for  their  friends. 
But  as  the  titled  men  were  made  to  pass  before  the 
burghers,  he  was  obliged  to  give  up  the  hope  of  speak- 
ing to  the  chancellor,  though  he  saw  him  several  times 
leave  the  house  to  go  either  to  the  chateau  or  to  the 
committee  appointed  by  the  Parliament,  — passing  each 
time  between  a  double  hedge  of  petitioners  who  were 
kept  back  by  the  guards  to  allow  him  free  passage.  It 
was  a  horrible  scene  of  anguish  and  desolation ;  for 
among  these  petitioners  were  many  women,  wives, 
mothers,  daughters,  whole  families  in  distress.  Old 
Lecamus  gave  much  gold  to  the  footmen  of  the  chateau, 
entreating  them  to  put  certain  letters  which  he  wrote 
into  the  hand  either  of  Da3'elle,  Queen  Marj^'s  woman, 
or  into  that  of  the  queen-mother ;  but  the  footmen  took 
the  poor  man's  mone}'  and  carried  the  letters,  according 
to  the  general  order  of  the  cardinal,  to  the  provost- 
marshal.  By  displaying  such  unheard-of  cruelty  the 
Guises  knew  that  they  incurred  great  dangers  from 
revenge,  and  never  did  they  take  such  precautions  for 
their  safety  as  they  did  while  the  court  was  at  Am- 
boise ;  consequently,  neither  the  greatest  of  all  cor- 
rupters, gold,  nor  the  incessant  and  active  search 
which  the  old  furrier  instituted  gave  him  the  slightest 
gleam  of  light  on  the  fate  of  his  son.  He  went  about 
the  little  town  with  a  mournful  air,  watching  the  great 
preparations  made  by  order  of  the  cardinal  for  the 
dreadful  show  at  which  the  Prince  de  Conde  had  agreed 
to  be  present. 

Public  curiosit}^  was  stimulated  from  Paris  to  Nantes 
by  the  means  adopted  on  this  occasion.     The  execution 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  199 


was  announced  from  all  pulpits  b}'  the  rectors  of  the 
churches,  while  at  the  same  time  they  gave  thanks 
for  the  victor}'  of  the  king  over  the  heretics.  Three 
handsome  balconies,  the  middle  one  more  sumptuous 
than  the  other  two,  were  built  against  the  terrace 
of  the  chateau  of  Amboise,  at  the  foot  of  which  the 
executions  were  appointed  to  take  place.  Around  the 
open  square,  stagings  were  erected,  and  these  were 
filled  with  an  immense  crowd  of  people  attracted  by  the 
wide-spread  notoriety*  given  to  this  ''  act  of  faith.'* 
Ten  thousand  persons  camped  in  the  adjoining  fields 
the  night  before  the  daj'  on  which  the  horrible  spectacle 
was  appointed  to  take  place.  The  roofs  of  the  houses 
were  crowded  with  spectators,  and  windows  were  let  at 
ten  pounds  apiece, — an  enormous  sum  in  those  days. 
The  poor  old  father  had  engaged,  as  we  may  well 
believe,  one  of  the  best  places  from  which  the  e3'e  could 
take  in  the  whole  of  the  terrible  scene,  where  so  many 
men  of  noble  blood  were  to  perish  on  a  vast  scaffold 
covered  with  black  cloth,  erected  in  the  middle  of  the 
open  square.  Thither,  on  the  morning  of  the  fatal  day, 
they  brought  the  choiiquet^  —  a  name  given  to  the  block 
on  which  the  condemned  man  laid  his  head  as  he  knelt 
before  it.  After  this  they  brought  an  arm-chair  draped 
with  black,  for  the  clerk  of  the  Parliament,  whose 
business  it  was  to  call  up  the  condemned  noblemen  to 
their  death  and  read  their  sentences.  The  whole  square 
was  guarded  from  early  morning  by  the  Scottish  guard 
and  the  gendarmes  of  the  king's  household,  in  order  to 
keep  back  the  crowd  which  threatened  to  fill  it  before 
the  hour  of  the  execution. 

After  a  solemn  mass  said  at  the  chateau  and  in  the 


200  Catherine  de   Medici. 

churches  of  the  town,  the  condemned  lords,  the  last  of 
the  conspirators  who  were  left  alive,  were  led  out. 
These  gentlemen,  some  of  whom  had  been  put  to  the 
torture,  were  grouped  at  the  foot  of  the  scaffold  and 
surrounded  by  monks,  who  endeavored  to  make  them 
abjure  the  doctrines  of  Calvin.  But  not  a  single 
man  listened  to  the  words  of  the  priests  who  had 
been  appointed  for  this  dutj^  by  the  Cardinal  of  Lor- 
raine ;  among  whom  the  gentlemen  no  doubt  feared  to 
find  spies  of  the  Guises.  In  order  to  avoid  the  impor- 
tunity of  these  antagonists  the}'  chanted  a  psalm,  put 
into  P'rench  verse  by  Clement  Marot.  Calvin,  as  we 
all  know,  had  ordained  that  pra\ers  to  God  should  be 
in  the  language  of  each  country-,  as  much  from  a  prin- 
ciple of  common  sense  as  in  opposition  to  the  Roman 
worship.  To  those  in  the  crowd  who  pitied  these  un- 
fortunate gentlemen  it  was  a  moving  incident  to 
hear  them  chant  the  following  verse  at  the  very 
moment  when  the  king  and  court  arrived  and  took  their 
places :  — 

"  God  be  merciful  unto  us, 
And  bless  us  I 
And  show  us  the  light  of  his  countenance, 
And  be  mercifi^l  unto  us." 

The  eyes  of  all  the  Reformers  turned  to  their  leader, 
the  Prince  de  Conde,  who  was  placed  intentionally 
between  Queen  Marj'  and  the  young  Due  d'Orleans. 
Catherine  de'  Medici  was  beside  the  king,  and  the  rest 
of  the  court  were  on  her  left.  The  papal  nuncio  stood 
behind  Queen  Mary  ;  the  lieutenant-general  of  the  king- 
dom, the  Due  de  Guise,  was  on  horseback  below  the 


Catherine  cle    Medici.  201 

balcony,  with  two  of  the  marshals  of  France  and  his 
staff  captains.  When  the  Prince  de  Conde  appeared  all 
the  condemned  noblemen  who  knew  him  bowed  to  him, 
and  the  brave  hunchback  returned  their  salutation. 

"  It  would  be  hard,'*  he  remarked  to  the  Due 
d'Orleans,  "  not  to  be  civil  to  those  about  to  die." 

The  two  other  balconies  were  filled  by  invited  guests, 
courtiers,  and  persons  on  dut}'  about  the  court.  In 
short,  the  whole  company  of  the  chateau  de  Blois 
had  come  to  Amboise  to  assist  at  this  festival  of  death, 
precisely  as  it  passed,  a  little  later,  from  the  pleasures 
of  a  court  to  the  perils  of  war,  with  an  easy  facility, 
which  will  always  seem  to  foreigners  one  of  the  main 
supports  of  their  polic}'  toward  France. 

The  poor  syndic  of  the  furriers  of  Paris  was  filled 
with  the  keenest  jo}^  at  not  seeing  his  son  among  the 
fifty-seven  gentlemen  who  were  condemned  to  die. 

At  a  sign  from  the  Due  de  Guise,  the  clerk  seated  on 
the  scaffold  cried  in  a  loud  voice  :  — 

"  Jean-Louis-Alberic,  Baron  de  Raima}',  guilty  of 
heres}',  of  the  crime  of  lese-majeste^  and  assault  with 
armed  hand  against  the  person  of  the  king." 

A  tall  handsome  man  mounted  the  scaffold  with  a 
firm  step,  bowed  to  the  people  and  the  court,  and  said  : 

"That  sentence  lies.  I  took  arms  to  deliver  the 
king  from  his  enemies,  the  Guises." 

He  placed  his  head  on  the  block,  and  it  fell.  The 
Reformers  chanted :  — 

"  Thou,  O  God  !  hast  proved  us ; 
Thou  hast  tried  us ; 
As  silver  is  tried  in  the  fire, 
So  hast  thou  purified  us." 


I 


202  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

"  Robert- Jean -Ken  e  Briquemaut,  Comte  de  Ville- 
mongis,  guilty  of  the  crime  of  lese-majeste^  and  of 
attempts  against  the  person  of  the  king ! "  called  the 
clerk. 

The  count  dipped  his  hands  in  the  blood  of  the 
Baron  de  Raunaj^,  and  said :  — 

"  May  this  blood  recoil  upon  those  who  are  really 
guilty  of  those  crimes." 

The  Reformers  chanted  :  — 

"  Thou  broughtest  us  into  the  snare ; 

Thou  laidest  affliction  upon  our  loins ; 
Thou  hast  suffered  our  enemies 
To  ride  over  us." 

"You  must  admit,  monseigneur,"  said  the  Prince 
de  Conde  to  the  papal  nuncio,  "that  if  these  P^ench 
gentlemen  know  how  to  conspire,  they  also  know  how 
to  die." 

"What  hatreds,  brother!"  whispered  the  Duchesse 
de  Guise  to  the  Cardinal  de  Lorraine,  "  j'ou  are  draw- 
ing down  upon  the  heads  of  our  children !  " 

"The  sight  makes  me  sick,"  said  the  3'oung  king, 
turning  pale  at  the  flow  of  blood. 

"  Pooh  !  onl}^  rebels  !  "  replied  Catherine  de*  Medici. 

The  chants  went  on  ;  the  axe  still  fell.  The  sublime 
spectacle  of  men  singing  as  the}^  died,  and,  above  all, 
the  impression  produced  upon  the  crowd  by  the  pro- 
gressive diminution  of  the  chanting  voices,  superseded 
the  fear  inspired  by  the  Guises. 

"  Mercy !  "  cried  the  people  with  one  voice,  when 
they  heard  the  solitar}^  chant  of  the  last  and  most 
important  of  the  great  lords,  who  was  saved  to  be  the 


f- 


I 


Catherine  de*  MedicL  203 

final  victim.  He  alone  remained  at  the  foot  of  the 
steps  b}'  which  the  others  had  mounted  the  scaffold, 
and  he  chanted  :  — 

"  Thou,  O  God,  be  merciful  unto  us, 
And  bless  us. 
And  cause  thy  face  to  shine  upon  us. 
Amen  I " 

"Come,  Due  de  Nemours,"  said  the  Prince  de  Conde, 
weary  of  the  part  he  was  playing ;  "  3'ou  who  have  the 
credit  of  the  skirmish,  and  who  helped  to  make  these 
men  prisoners,  do  you  not  feel  under  an  obligation  to 
ask  merc}^  for  this  one  ?  It  is  Castelnau,  who,  the\'  sa}', 
received  3'our  word  of  honor  that  he  should  be  cour- 
teously treated  if  he  surrendered." 

"Do  3'ou  think  I  waited  till  he  was  here  before  trying 
to  save  him  ?  '^  said  the  Due  de  Nemours,  stung  by  the 
stern  reproach. 

The  clerk  called  slowly  —  no  doubt  he  was  inten- 
tionally slow :  — 

"  Michel- Jean-Louis,  Baron  de  Castelnau-Chalosse, 
accused  and  convicted  of  the  crime  of  lese-niajeste^  and 
of  attempts  against  the  person  of  the  king." 

''No,"  said  Castelnau,  proudl3%  "it  cannot  be  a 
crime  to  oppose  the  t3Tanny  and  the  projected  usurpa- 
tion of  the  Guises." 

The  executioner,  sick  of  his  task,  saw  a  movement 

the  king's  gallery,  and  fumbled  with  his  axe. 

"Monsieur  le  baron,"  he  said,  "I  do  not  want  to 
execute  you ;  a  moment's  dela}'  may  save  3'ou." 

All  the  people  again  cried,  "  Mercy  !  " 

"Come!"  said  the  king,  "mere}'  for  that  poor 
Castelnau,  who  saved  the  life  of  the  Due  d'Orleaus." 


204  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

The  cardinal  intentionall}^  misunderstood  the  king's 
speech. 

"Go  on,"  he  motioned  to  the  executioner,  and  the 
head  of  Castehiau  fell  at  the  very  moment  when  the 
king  had  pronounced  his  pardon. 

"That  head,  cardinal,  goes  to  joxxx  account,"  said 
Catherine  de*  Medici. 

The  da}^  after  this  dreadful  execution  the  Prince  de 
Conde  returned  to  Navarre. 

The  affair  produced  a  great  sensation  in  France  and 
at  all  the  foreign  courts.  The  torrents  of  noble  blood 
then  shed  caused  such  anguish  to  the  chancellor  Olivier 
that  his  honorable  mind,  perceiving  at  last  the  real  end 
and  aim  of  the  Guises  disguised  under  a  pretext  of 
defending  religion  and  the  monarch}^,  felt  itself  no 
longer  able  to  make  head  against  them.  Though  he 
was  their  creature,  he  was  not  willing  to  sacrifice  his 
duty  and  the  Throne  to  their  ambition  ;  and  he  with- 
drew from  his  post,  suggesting  I'Hopital  as  his  rightful 
successor.  Catherine,  hearing  of  Olivier's  suggestion, 
immediatelj'  proposed  Birago,  and  put  much  warmth 
into  her  request.  The  cardinal,  knowing  nothing  of  the 
letter  written  by  I'Hopital  to  the  queen-mother,  and 
supposing  him  faithful  to  the  house  of  Lorraine,  pressed 
bis  appointment  in  opposition  to  that  of  Birago, 
and  Catherine  allowed  herself  to  seem  vanquished. 
From  the  moment  that  I'Hopital  entered  upon  his  duties 
he  took  measures  against  the  Inquisition,  which  the 
Cardinal  de  Lorraine  was  desirous  of  introducing  into 
France  ;  and  he  thwarted  so  successfull}'  all  the  anti- 
gallican  policy  of  the  Guises,  and  proved  himself  so 
true  a  Frenchman,  that  in  order  to  subdue  him  he  was 


I 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  205 

exiled,  within  three  months  of  his  appointment,  to  his 
countiy-seat  of  Vignay,  near  Etampes. 

The  worthy  old  Lecamus  waited  impatient!}'  till  the 
court  left  Amboise,  being  unable  to  find  an  opportun- 
ity to  speak  to  either  of  the  queens,  and  hoping  to  put 
himself  in  their  wa}^  as  the  court  advanced  along  the 
river-bank  on  its  return  to  Blois.  He  disguised  himself 
as  a  pauper,  at  the  risk  of  being  taken  for  a  spy,  and 
by  means  of  this  travesty,  he  mingled  with  the  crowd 
of  beggars  which  lined  the  roadvva3%  After  the  depart- 
ure of  the  Prince  de  Conde,  and  the  execution  of  the 
leaders,  the  duke  and  cardinal  thought  they  had  suffi- 
ciently silenced  the  Reformers  to  allow  the  queen- 
mother  a  little  more  freedom.  Lecamus  knew  that, 
instead  of  travelling  in  a  litter,  Catherine  intended  to 
go  on  horseback,  a  la  2>lcinchette^  —  such  was  the  name 
given  to  a  sort  of  stirrup  invented  for  or  b}'  the 
queen-mother,  who,  having  hurt  her  leg  on  some  occa- 
sion, ordered  a  velvet-covered  saddle  with  a  plank  on 
which  she  could  place  both  feet  b}-  sitting  sideways  on 
the  horse  and  passing  one  leg  through  a  depression  in 
the  saddle.  As  the  queen-mother  had  very  handsome 
legs,  she  was  accused  of  inventing  this  method  of  rid- 
ing, in  order  to  show  them.  The  old  furrier  fortunately 
found  a  moment  when  he  could  present  himself  to  her 
sight ;  but  the  instant  that  the  queen  recognized  him 
she  gave  signs  of  displeasure. 

"  Go  away,  my  good  man,  and  let  no  one  see  you 
speak  to  me,"  she  said  with  anxiet}'.  "Get  yourself 
elected  deput}'  to  the  States-general,  b}-  the  guild  of 
3'our  trade,  and  act  for  me  when  the  Assembly  convenes 
at  Orleans  ;  you  shall  know  whom  to  trust  in  the  mat- 
ter of  your  son." 


20G  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

*^Is  he  living?  "  asked  the  old  man. 

"  Alas  !  "  said  the  queen,  ^'  I  hope  so." 

Lecamus  was  obUged  to  return  to  Paris  with  nothing 
better  than  those  doubtful  words  and  the  secret  of  the 
approaching  convocation  of  the  States-general,  thus 
confided  to  him  bj^  the  queen-mother. 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  207 


X. 


COSMO   RUGGIERO. 

The  Cardinal  de  Lorraine  obtained,  within  a  few 
days  of  the  events  just  related,  certain  revelations  as 
to  the  culpabilit}'  of  the  court  of  Navarre.  At  L3'on, 
and  at  Mouvans  in  Dauphine,  a  body  of  Reformers, 
under  command  of  the  most  enterprising  prince  of  the 
house  of  Bourbon  had  endeavored  to  incite  the  popu- 
lace to  rise.  Such  audacit}',  after  the  blood}'  execu- 
tions at  Amboise,  astonished  the  Guises,  who  (no  doubt 
to  put  an  end  to  heresy  by  means  known  only  to 
themselves)  proposed  the  convocation  of  the  States- 
general  at  Orleans.  Catherine  de'  Medici,  seeing  a 
chance  of  support  to  her  policy  in  a  national  represen- 
tation, joyfully  agreed  to  it.  The  cardinal,  bent  on  re- 
covering his  prey  and  degrading  the  house  of  Bourbon, 
convoked  the  States  for  the  sole  purpose  of  bringing 
the  Prince  de  Conde  and  the  king  of  Navarre  (Antoine 
de  Bourbon,  father  of  Henri  IV.)  to  Orleans,  —  intend- 
ing to  make  use  of  Christophe  to  convict  the  prince  of 
high  treason  if  he  succeeded  in  again  getting  him  within 
the  power  of  the  Crown. 

After  two  months  passed  in  the  prison  at  Blois, 
Christophe  was  removed  on  a  litter  to  a  tow-boat,  which 
sailed  up  the  Loire  to  Orleans,  helped  b}^  a  westerlj'  wind. 
He  arrived  there  in  the  evening  and  was  taken  at  once 
to  the  celebrated  tower  of  Saint- Aignan.    The  poor  lad. 


208  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

who  did  not  know  what  to  think  of  his  removal,  had 
plenty  of  time  to  reflect  on  his  conduct  and  on  his 
future.  He  remained  there  two  months,  Ivinoj  on  his 
pallet,  unable  to  move  his  legs.  The  bones  of  his  joints 
were  broken.  When  he  asked  for  the  help  of  a  surgeon 
from  the  town,  the  jailer  replied  that  the  orders  were  so 
strict  about  him  that  he  dared  not  allow  an}^  one  but 
himself  even  to  bring  him  food.  This  severity,  which 
placed  him  virtuall}^  in  solitary  confinement,  amazed 
Christophe.  To  his  mind,  he  ought  either  to  be  hanged 
or  released  ;  for  he  was,  of  course,  entirely  ignorant  of 
the  events  at  Amboise. 

In  spite  of  certain  secret  advice  sent  to  them  by 
Catherine  de'  Medici,  the  two  chiefs  of  the  house  of 
Bourbon  resolved  to  be  present  at  the  States-general, 
so  complete  1}'  did  the  autograph  letters  they  received 
from  the  king  reassure  them ;  and  no  sooner  had  the 
court  established  itself  at  Orleans  than  it  learned,  not 
without  amazement,  from  Groslot,  chancellor  of  Na- 
varre, that  the  Bourbon  princes  had  arrived. 

Franqois  II.  established  himself  in  the  house  of  the 
chancellor  of  Navarre,  who  was  also  bailli,  in  other 
words,  chief  justice  of  the  law  courts,  at  Orleans.  This 
Groslot,  whose  dual  position  was  one  of  the  singularities 
of  this  period  —  when  Reformers  themselves  owned 
abbeys  —  Groslot,  the  Jacques  Coeur  of  Orleans,  one 
of  the  richest  burghers  of  the  da}-,  did  not  bequeath 
his  name  to  the  house,  for  in  after  3'ears  it  was  called 
Le  Bailliage,  having  been,  undoubtedl}',  purchased  either 
by  the  heirs  of  the  Crown  or  by  the  provinces  as  the 
proper  place  in  which  to  hold  the  legal  courts.  This 
charming  structure,  built  by  the  bourgeoisie  of  the  six- 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  209 

teenth  century,  which  completes  so  admirabl\'  the  his- 
tory of  a  period  in  which  king,  nobles,  and  burghers 
rivalled  each  other  in  the  grace,  elegance,  and  richness 
of  their  dwellings  (witness  Varangeville,  the  splendid 
manor-house  of  Ango,  and  the  mansion,  called  that  of 
Hercules,  in  Paris),  exists  to  this  day,  though  in  a  state 
to  fill  archaeologists  and  lovers  of  the  Middle  Ages  with 
despair.  It  would  be  difficult,  however,  to  go  to  Orle- 
ans and  not  take  notice  of  the  H6tel-de-Ville  which 
stands  on  the  place  de  I'Estape.  This  hotel-de-ville,  or 
town-hall,  is  the  former  Balliage,  the  mansion  of  Groslot, 
the  most  illustrious  house  in  Orleans,  and  the  most 
neglected. 

The  remains  of  this  old  building  will  still  show,  to 
the  eyes  of  an  archaeologist,  how  magnificent  it  was  at 
a  period  when  the  houses  of  the  burghers  were  com- 
monly built  of  wood  rather  than  stone,  a  period  when 
noblemen  alone  had  the  right  to  build  maiiora^  —  a  sig- 
nificant word.  Having  served  as  the  dwelling  of  the 
king  at  a  period  when  the  court  displayed  such  pomp 
and  luxury,  the  hotel  Groslot  must  have  been  the  most 
splendid  house  in  Orleans.  It  was  here,  on  the  place 
de  TEstape,  that  the  Guises  and  the  king  reviewed  the 
burgher  guard,  of  which  Monsieur  de  Cypierre  was 
made  the  commander  during  the  sojourn  of  the  king. 
At  this  period  the  cathedral  of  Sainte-Croix,  afterward 
completed  by  Henri  IV.,  —  who  chose  to  give  that  proof 
of  the  sincerity  of  his  conversion,  —  was  in  process  of 
erection,  and  its  neighborhood,  heaped  with  stones  and 
cumbered  with  piles  of  wood,  was  occupied  b}'  the 
Guises  and  their  retainers,  who  were  quartered  in  the 
bishop's  palace,  now  destroyed. 

14 


210  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

The  town  was  under  military  discipline,  and  the 
measures  taken  by  the  Guises  proved  how  little  liberty 
they  intended  to  leave  to  the  States-general,  the 
members  of  which  flocked  into  the  town,  raisins:  the 
rents  of  the  poorest  lodgings.  The  court,  the  burgher 
militia,  the  nobility,  and  the  burghers  themselves  were 
all  in  a  state  of  expectation,  awaiting  some  coiip- 
d'Etat ;  and  the}'  found  themselves  not  mistaken  when 
the  princes  of  the  blood  arrived.  As  the  Bourbon 
princes  entered  the  king's  chamber,  the  court  saw  with 
terror  the  insolent  bearing  of  Cardinal  de  Lorraine. 
Determined  to  show  his  intentions  openl}',  he  remained 
covered,  while  the  king  of  Navarre  stood  before  him 
bare-headed.  Catherine  de'  Medici  lowered  her  eyes, 
not  to  show  the  indignation  that  she  felt.  Then  fol- 
lowed a  solemn  explanation  between  the  young  king 
and  the  two  chiefs  of  the  younger  branch.  It  was 
short,  for  at  the  first  words  of  the  Prince  de  Conde 
Francois  11.  interrupted  him,  with  threatening  looks  : 

"Messieurs,  m}*  cousins,  I  had  supposed  the  affair  of 
Amboise  over ;  I  find  it  is  not  so,  and  3'ou  are  compel- 
ling us  to  regret  the  indulgence  which  we  showed.'* 

*^  It  is  not  the  king  so  much  as  the  Messieurs  de 
Guise  who  now  address  us,-*  replied  the  Prince  de 
Conde. 

"  Adieu,  monsieur,''  cried  the  little  king,  crimson 
with  anger.  When  he  left  the  king's  presence  the  prince 
found  his  way  barred  in  the  great  hall  hy  two  officers  of 
the  Scottish  guard.  As  the  captain  of  the  French 
guard  advanced,  the  prince  drew  a  letter  from  his 
doublet,  and  said  to  him  in  presence  of  the  whole 
court :  — 


Catherine  de*  Medici,  211 

"  Can  you  read  that  paper  aloud  to  me,  Monsieur  de 
Maille-Breze?'' 
- ''  Willingly,"  said  the  French  captain  :  — 

««*My  cousin,  come  in  all  security;  I  give  you  my  royal 
word  that  you  can  do  so.  If  you  have  need  of  a  safe  con- 
duct, this  letter  will  serve  as  one.* " 

"  Signed?"  said  the  shrewd  and  courageous  hunch- 
back. 

*'  Signed  '  Francois,'  "  said  Maill6. 

"No,  no!"  exclaimed  the  prince,  "it  is  signed: 
'  Your  good  cousin  and  friend,  Francois.'  —  Messieurs," 
he  said  to  the  Scotch  guard,  *'  I  follow  you  to  the 
prison  to  which  you  are  ordered,  on  behalf  of  the  king, 
to  conduct  me.  There  is  enough  nobility  in  this  hall  to 
understand  the  matter  !  " 

The  profound  silence  which  followed  these  words 
ought  to  have  enlightened  the  Guises,  but  silence  is 
that  to  which  all  princes  listen  least. 

*' Monseigneur,"  said  the  Cardinal  de  Tournon,  who 
was  following  the  prince,  ''  30U  know  well  that  since 
the  affair  at  Amboise  you  have  made  certain  attempts 
both  at  Lyon  and  at  Mouvans  in  Dauphine  against  the 
royal  authority,  of  which  the  king  had  no  knowledge 
when  he  wrote  to  you  in  those  terms. " 

*'  Tricksters  !  "  cried  the  prince,  laughing. 

"  You  have  made  a  public  declaration  against  the 
Mass  and  in  favor  of  heres}*." 

"  We  are  masters  in  Navarre,"  said  the  prince. 

*'  You  mean  to  say  in  Beam.  But  3'ou  owe  homage 
to  the  Crown,"  replied  President  de  Thou. 

'*Ha!  you  here,  president?"  cried  the  prince,  sarcas- 
tically.    "  Is  the  whole  Parliament  with  3'ou  ?  " 


212  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

So  saying,  he  cast  a  look  of  contempt  upon  the 
cardinal  and  left  the  hall.  He  saw  plainly  enough  that 
♦  the}'  meant  to  have  his  head.  The  next  da}',  when 
Messieurs  de  Thou,  de  Viole,  d'Espesse,  the  procureur- 
general  Bourdin,  and  the  chief  clerk  of  the  court  du 
Tillet,  entered  his  presence,  he  kept  them  standing, 
and  expressed  his  regrets  to  see  them  charged  with  a 
duty  which  did  not  belong  to  them.  Then  he  said  to 
the  clerk,  "  Write  down  what  I  say,"  and  dictated  as 
follows ;  — 

"  I,  Louis  de  Bourbon,  Prince  de  Condd,  peer  of  the  king- 
dom. Marquis  de  Conti,  Comte  de  Soissoiis,  prince  of  the 
blood  of  France,  do  declare  that  I  formally  refuse  to  recog- 
nize any  commission  appointed  to  try  me,  because,  in  my 
quality  and  in  virtue  of  the  privilege  appertaining  to  all 
members  of  the  royal  house,  I  can  only  be  accused,  tried, 
and  judged  by  the  Parliament  of  peers,  both  Chambers 
assembled,  the  king  being  seated  on  his  bed  of  justice." 

**  You  ought  to  know  that,  gentlemen,  better  than 
others,''  he  added  ;  "  and  this  reply  is  all  that  you  will 
get  from  me.  For  the  rest,  I  trust  in  God  and  my 
right." 

The  magistrates  continued  to  address  him  notwith- 
standing  his  obstinate  silence.  The  king  of  Navarre 
was  left  at  liberty,  but  closel}'  watched  ;  his  prison  was 
larger  than  that  of  the  prince,  and  this  was  the  only  real 
difference  in  the  position  of  the  two  brothers,  —  the 
intention  being  that  their  heads  should  fall  together. 

Christophe  was  therefore  kept  in  the  strictest  solitary 
confinement  b}'  order  of  the  cardinal  and  the  lieutenant- 
general  of  the  kingdom,  for  no  other  purpose  than  to 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  213 

t 

■give  the  judges  proof  of  the  culpability  of  the  Prince 
l^de  Conde.  The  letters  seized  on  Lasagne,  the  prince's 
secretary,  though  intelligible  to  statesmen,  were  not 
ufficiently  plain  proof  for  judges.  The  cardinal  in- 
tended to  confront  the  prince  and  Christophe  by  acci- 
dent ;  and  it  was  not  without  intention  that  the  young 
Reformer  was  placed  in  one  of  the  lower  rooms  in  the 
tower  of  Saint-Aignan,  with  a  window  looking  on  the 
prison  yard.  Eacli  time  that  Christophe  was  brought 
before  the  magistrates,  and  subjected  to  a  close  exami- 
nation, he  sheltered  himself  behind  a  total  and  complete 
denial,  which  prolonged  his  trial  until  after  the  opening 
of  the  States-general. 

Old  Lecamus,  who  by  that  time  had  got  himself 
elected  deputy  of  the  tiers-etat  by  the  burghers  of  Paris, 
arrived  at  Orleans  a  few  days  after  tiie  arrest  of  the 
Prince  de  Conde.  This  news,  which  reached  him  at 
fitampes,  redoubled  his  anxiety ;  for  he  fully  understood 
—  he,  who  alone  knew  of  Christophers  interview  with 
the  prince  under  the  bridge  near  his  own  house  —  tliat 
his  son's  fate  was  closely  bound  up  with  that  of  the 
leader  of  the  Reformed  party.  He  therefore  determined 
to  study  the  dark  tangle  of  interests  which  were  strug- 
gling together  at  court  in  order  to  discover  some  means 
of  rescuing  his  son.  It  was  useless  to  think  of  Queen 
Catherine,  who  refused  to  see  her  furrier.  No  one 
about  the  court  whom  he  was  able  to  address  could 
give  him  any  satisfactory  information  about  Cliristophe  ; 
and  he  fell  at  last  into  a  state  of  such  utter  despair 
that  he  was  on  the  verge  of  appealing  to  the  cardinal 
himself,  when  he  learned  that  Monsieur  de  Thou  (and 
this  was  the  great  stain  upon  that  good  man's  life)  had 


214  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

consented  to  be  one  of  the  judges  of  the  Prince  de 
Conde.  The  old  furrier  went  at  once  to  see  him,  and 
learned  at  last  that  Christophe  was  still  living,  though 
a  prisoner. 

Tourillon,  the  glover  (to  whom  La  Eenaudie  sent 
Christophe  on  his  way  to  Blois),  had  offered  a  room  in 
his  house  to  the  Sieur  Lecamus  for  the  whole  time  of 
his  sta}^  in  Orleans  during  the  sittings  of  the  States- 
general.  The  glover  believed  the  furrier  to  be,  like 
himself,  secretl}-^  attached  to  the  Reformed  religion  ;  but 
he  soon  saw  that  a  father  who  fears  for  the  life  of  his 
child  pa^'s  no  heed  to  shades  of  religious  opinion,  but 
flings  himself  prone  upon  the  bosom  of  God  without  car- 
ing what  insignia  men  give  to  Him.  The  poor  old  man, 
repulsed  in  all  his  efforts,  wandered  like  one  bewildered 
through  the  streets.  Contrary-  to  his  expectations,  his 
mone}^  availed  him  nothing ;  Monsieur  de  Thou  had 
warned  him  that  if  he  bribed  any  servant  of  the 
house  of  Guise  he  would  merel}-  lose  his  mone}',  for 
the  duke  and  cardinal  allowed  nothing  that  related  tp 
Christophe  to  transpire.  De  Thou,  whose  fame  is 
somewhat  tarnished  b}^  the  part  he  plaj^ed  at  this  crisis, 
endeavored  to  give  some  hope  to  the  poor  father ;  but 
he  trembled  so  much  himself  for  the  fate  of  his  godson 
that  his  attempts  at  consolation  onl}^  alarmed  the  old 
man  still  more.  Lecamus  roamed  the  streets  ;  in  three 
months  he  had  shrunk  visibly.  His  onh'  hope  now  lay 
in  the  warm  friendship  which  for  so  man}^  years  had 
bound  him  to  the  Hippocrates  of  the  sixteenth  century. 
Ambroise  Pare  tried  to  say  a  word  to  Queen  Marj^  on 
leaving  the  chamber  of  the  king,  who  was  then  indis- 
posed ;  but  no  sooner  had  he  named  Christophe  than 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  215 

I 

tlie  daughter  of  the  Stuarts,  nervous  at  the  prospect 
of  her  fate  should  any  evil  happen  to  the  king,  and 
believing  that  the  Reformers  were  attempting  to  poison 
him,  cried  out :  — 

"  If  my  uncles  had  only  listened  to  me,  that  fanatic 
would  have  been  hanged  already." 

The  evening  on  which  this  fatal  answer  was  repeated 
to  old  Lecamus,  by  his  friend  Pare  on  the  place  de 
I'Estape,  he  returned  home  half  dead  to  his  own  cham- 
ber, refusing  to  eat  any  supj^er.  Tourillon,  uneasy 
about  him,  went  up  to  his  room  and  found  him  in  tears ; 
the  aged  e^'es  showed  the  inflamed  red  lining  of  their 
lids,  so  that  the  glover  fancied  for  a  moment  that  he 
was  weeping  tears  of  blood. 

"  Comfort  yourself,  father,"  said  the  Reformer ;  "  the 
burghers  of  Orleans  are  furious  to  see  their  city  treated 
as  though  it  were  taken  b}"  assault,  and  guarded  by  the 
soldiers  of  Monsieur  de  Cypierre.  If  the  life  of  the 
Prince  de  Conde  is  in  any  real  danger  we  will  soon 
demolish  the  tower  of  Saint- Aignan ;  the  whole  town 
is  on  the  side  of  the  Reformers,  and  it  will  rise  in 
rebellion ;  you  may  be  sure  of  that  1  " 

''But,  even  if  they  hang  the  Guises,  it  will  not  give 
me  back  mj-  son,"  said  the  wretched  father. 

At  that  instant  some  one  rapped  cautiously'  on  Tour- 
illon's  outer  door,  and  the  glover  went  downstairs  to 
open  it  himself.  The  night  was  dark.  In  these  troub- 
lous times  the  masters  of  all  households  took  minute 
precautions.  Tourillon  looked  through  the  peep-holes 
cut  in  the  door,  and  saw  a  stranger,  whose  accent 
indicated  an  Italian,  The  man,  who  was  dressed  in 
black,    asked   to  speak  with  Lecamus  on   matters  of 


216  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

business,  and  Tourillon  admitted  him.  When  the  fur- 
rier caught  sight  of  his  visitor  he  shuddered  violently  ; 
but  the  stranger  managed,  unseen  by  Tourillon,  to  lay 
bis  finger  on  his  lips.  Lecamus,  understanding  the 
gesture,  said   immediatel}^ :  — 

**You  have  come,  1  suppose,  to  offer  furs?'* 

"  /S'i,"  said  the  Italian,  discreetly. 

This  personage  was  no  other  than  the  famous  Rug- 
giero,  astrologer  to  the  queen-mother.  Tourillon  went 
below  to  his  own  apartment,  feeling  convinced  that  he 
was  one  too  many  in  that  of  his  guest. 

''  Where  can  we  talk  without  danger  of  being  over- 
heard?" said  the  cautious  Florentine. 

"  We  ought  to  be  in  the  open  fields  for  that,"  replied 
Lecamus.  ''  But  we  are  not  allowed  to  leave  the  town  ; 
you  know  the  severity  with  which  the  gates  are  guarded. 
No  one  can  leave  Orleans  without  a  pass  from  Monsieur 
de  Cypierre,"  he  added,  —  "  not  even  I,  who  am  a  mem- 
ber of  the  States-general.  Complaint  is  to  be  made  at 
to-morrow's  session  of  this  restriction  of  liberty." 

"  Work  like  a  mole,  but  don't  let  3'our  paws  be  seen 
in  anvthinor,  no  matter  what,"  said  the  warv  Italian. 
''  To-morrow  will,  no  doubt,  prove  a  decisive  day. 
Judging  b}'  m}' observations,  you  ma}',  perhaps,  recover 
3^our  son  to-morrow,  or  tlie  day  after." 

"'May  God  hear  you — you  who  are  thought  to 
traffic  with  the  devil !  " 

"  Come  to  m}'  place,"  said  the  astrologer,  smiling. 
"  I  live  in  the  tower  of  Sieur  Touchet  de  Beauvais,  the 
lieutenant  of  the  Bailliage,  whose  daughter  the  little 
Due  d'Orleans  has  taken  such  a  fanc}'  to  ;  it  is  there  that 
I  observe  the  planets.     I  have  drawn  the  girl's  horo- 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  217 

scope,  anrl  it  sa3-s  that  she  will  become  a  great  lady  and 
be  beloved  by  a  king.  The  lieutenant,  her  father,  is 
a  clever  man  ;  he  loves  science,  and  the  queen  sent  me 
to  lodge  with  him.  He  has  had  the  sense  to  be  a  rabid 
Guisist  while  awaiting  the  reign  of  Charles  IX." 

The  furrier  and  the  astrologer  reached  the  house  of 
tlie  Sieur  de  Beauvais  without  being  met  or  even  seen ; 
but,  in  case  Lecamus'  visit  should  be  discovered,  the 
Florentine  intended  to  give  the  pretext  of  an  astrologi- 
cal consultation  on  his  son's  fate.  When  they  were 
safely  at  the  top  of  the  tower,  where  the  astrologer  did 
Ins  work,  Lecamus  said  to  him  :  — 
H  "  Is  my  son  realh^  living?" 

Bp  "  Yes,  he  still  lives,"  replied  Ruggiero ;  ''and  the 

question  now  is  how  to  save  him.     Remember  this,  sel- 

i  ler  of  skins,  I  would  not  give  two  farthings  for  yours  if 

ever  in  all  your  life  a  single  syllable  should  escape  you 

of  what  I  am  about  to  say." 

"  That  is  a  useless  caution,  my  friend  ;  I  have  been 
furrier  to  the  court  since  the  time  of  the  late  Louis 
XII.  ;  this  is  the  fourth  reign  that  I  have  seen." 

"  And  you  may  soon  say  the  fifth,"  remarked  Rug- 
giero. 

''  What  do  3'ou  know  about  ra}'  son?  " 

"  He  has  been  put  to  the  question." 

"  Poor  boy !  "  said  the  old  man,  raising  his  63^3  to 
heaven. 

"  His  knees  and  ankles  were  a  bit  injured,  but  he 
has  won  a  royal  protection  which  will  extend  over  liis 
whole  life,"  said  the  Florentine  hastily,  seeing  the  ter- 
ror of  the  poor  father.  "  Your  little  Christophe  has 
done  a  service  to  our  great  queen  Catherine.     If  we 


218  Catherine  de*  Medici. 

manage  to  pull  him  out  of  the  claws  of  the  Guises  you 
will  see  him  some  day  councillor  to  .the  Parliament. 
Any  man  would  gladly  have  his  bones  cracked  three 
times  over  to  stand  so  high  in  the  good  graces  of  this 
dear  sovereign,  —  a  grand  and  noble  genius,  who  will 
ti'iumph  in  the  end  over  all  obstacles.  I  have  drawn 
the  horoscope  of  the  Due  de  Guise;  he  will  be  killed 
within  a  year.  Well,  so  Chris tophe  saw  the  Prince  de 
Conde  —  " 

"  You  who  read  the  future  ought  to  know  the  past," 
said  the  furrier. 

''  M}'  good  man,  I  am  not  questioning  you,  I  am  tell- 
ing you  a  fact.  Now,  if  your  son,  who  will  to-morrow 
be  placed  in  the  princess  wa}'  as  he  passes,  should  rec- 
ognize him,  or  if  the  prince  should  recognize  your  son, 
the  head  of  Monsieur  de  Conde  will  fall.  God  knows 
what  will  become  of  his  accomplice  !  However,  don't 
be  alarmed.  Neither  your  son  nor  the  prince  will  die  ; 
I  have  drawn  their  horoscope,  —  tlie}'  will  live  ;  but  I  do 
not  know  in  what  wa}^  the}'  will  get  out  of  this  affair. 
Without  distrusting  the  certaint}'  of  my  calculations, 
we  must  do  something  to  bring  about  results.  To-mor- 
row the  prince  will  receive,  from  sure  hands,  a  prayer- 
book  in  which  we  conve>'  the  information  to  him.  God 
grant  that  your  son  be  cautious,  for  him  we  cannot  warn. 
A  single  glance  of  recognition  will  cost  the  prince's  life. 
Therefore,  although  the  queen-mother  has  ever}'  reason 
to  trust  in  Christophe's  faithfulness  —  " 

''  They  Ve  put  it  to  a  cruel  test !  *'  cried  the  furrier. 

"  Don't  speak  so!  Do  you  think  the  queen-mother 
is  on  a  bed  of  roses?  She  is  taking  measures  as  if  the 
Guises  had  already  decided  on  the  death  of  the  prince  ; 


Catherine  de    Medici.  219 

and  right  she  is,  the  wise  and  prudent  queen !  Now 
listen  to  me  ;  she  counts  on  you  to  help  her  in  all 
things.  You  have  some  influence  with  the  tiers-etat^ 
IBrhere  you  represent  the  body  of  the  guilds  of  Paris, 
IHnd  though  the  Guisards  may  promise  you  to  set  your 
son  at  liberty,  try  to  fool  them  and  maintain  tlie  inde- 
pendence of  the  guilds.  Demand  the  queen-mother  as 
regent;  the  king  of  Navarre  will  publicly  accept  the 
proposal  at  the  session  of  the  States-general. 

"But  the  king?"  said  Lecamus. 

"  The  king  will  die,"  replied  Ruggiero  ;  "  I  have  read 
his  horoscope.  What  the  queen-mother  requires  you 
to  do  for  her  at  the  States-general  is  a  very  simple  thing  ; 
but  there  is  a  far  greater  service  which  she  asks  of  you. 
You  helped  Ambroise  Pare  in  his  studies,  you  are  his 
friend  —  *' 

"Ambroise  now  loves  the  Due  de  Guise  more  than 
he  loves  me ;  and  he  is  rigiit,  for  he  owes  his  place  to 
him.  Besides,  he  is  faithful  to  the  king.  Though  he 
inclines  to  the  Reformed  religion,  he  will  never  do  any- 
thing against  his  duty.'' 

"Curse  these  honest  men!"  cried  the  Florentine. 
"Ambroise  boasted  this  evening  that  he  could  bring 
the  little  king  safely  through  his  present  illness  (for  he 
is  really  ill).  If  the  king  recovers  his  health,  the  Guises 
triumph,  the  princes  die,  the  house  of  Bourbon  becomes 
extinct,  we  shall  return  to  Florence,  vour  son  will  be 
hanged,  and  the  Lorrains  will  easily  get  the  better  of 
the  other  sons  of  France  —  " 

''  Great  God  !  "  exclaimed  Lecamus. 

"Don't  cry  out  in  that  way,  —  it  is  like  a  burgher 
who  knows  nothing  of  the  court,  —  but  go  at  once  to 


220  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

Ambroise  and  find  out  from  him  what  he  intends  to  do 
to  save  the  king's  hfe.  If  there  is  anything  decided  on, 
oome  back  to  me  at  once,  and  tell  me  the  treatment  in 
which  he  has  such  faith." 

''But —  "  said  Lecamus. 

''Obey  blindly,  my  dear  friend;  otherwise  j^ou  will 
get  your  mind  bewildered." 

"He  is  right,"  thought  the  furrier.  "I  had  better 
not  know  more  ;  "  and  he  went  at  once  in  search  of  the 
king's  surgeon,  who  lived  at  a  hostelrj'  in  the  place  du 
Martroi. 

Catherine  de'  Medici  was  at  this  moment  in  a  politi- 
cal extremit}'  y^vy  much  like  that  in  which  poor  Chris- 
tophe  had  seen  her  at  Blois.  Though  she  had  been  in 
a  wa\'  trained  by  the  struggle,  though  she  had  exer- 
cised her  loft}'  intellect  b\'  the  lessons  of  that  first  de- 
feat, her  present  situation,  while  nearly  the  same,  had 
become  more  critical,  more  perilous  than  it  was  at  Am- 
boise.  Events,  like  the  woman  herself,  had  magnified. 
Though  she  seemed  to  be  in  full  accordance  with  the 
Guises,  Catherine  held  in  her  hand  the  threads  of  a 
wisely  planned  conspiracy  against  her  terrible  associ- 
ates, and  was  onl}'  awaiting  a  propitious  moment  to 
throw  off  the  mask.  The  cardinal  had  just  obtained 
the  positive  certaintj'  that  Catherine  was  deceiving  him. 
Her  subtle  Italian  spirit  felt  that  the  Younger  branch 
was  the  best  hindrance  she  could  offer  to  the  ambition 
of  the  duke  and  cardinal ;  and  (in  spite  of  the  advice  of 
the  two  Gondis,  who  urged  her  to  let  the  Guises  wreak 
their  vengeance  on  the  Bourbons)  she  defeated  the 
scheme  concocted  b}'  them  with  Spain  to  seize  the  prov- 
ince of  Beam,  by  warning  Jeanne  d'Albret,  queen  of 


Catherine  de^  Medici,  221 


li^ 


avarre,  of  that  threatened  danger.  As  this  state  secret 
was  known  only  to  them  and  to  the  queen-mother,  the 
Guises  knew  of  course  who  had  betra^'ed  it,  and  re- 
solved to  send  her  back  to  Florence.  But  in  order  to 
make  themselves  perfectly  sure  of  what  they  called  her 
treason  against  the  State  (the  State  being  the  house  of 
Lorraine),  the  duke  and  cardinal  confided  to  her  their 
intention  of  getting  rid  of  the  king  of  Navarre.  The 
precautions  instantly  taken  by  Antoine  proved  conclu- 
sively to  the  two  brothers  that  the  secrets  known  only 
to  them  and  the  queen-mother  had  been  divulged  by 
the  latter.  The  cardinal  instantly*  taxed  her  with 
treachery,  in  presence  of  P'ran9ois  II.,  —  threatening 
lier  with  an  edict  of  banishment  in  case  of  future  indis- 
cretion, which  might,  as  they  said,  put  the  kingdom  in 
danger. 

Catherine,  who  then  felt  herself  in  the  utmost  peril, 
acted  in  the  spirit  of  a  great  king,  giving  proof  of  her 
high  capacit}'.  It  must  be  added,  however,  that  she 
was  ably  seconded  by  her  friends.  L'Hopital  managed 
to  send  her  a  note,  written  in  the  following  terms :  — 

"  Do  not  allow  a  prince  of  the  blood  to  be  put  to  death 
by  a  committee ;  or  you  will  yourself  be  carried  off  in  some 
way." 

Catherine  sent  Birago  to  Vignay  to  tell  the  chan- 
cellor (I'Hopital)  to  come  to  Orleans  at  once,  in  spite  of 
his  being  in  disgrace.  Birago  returned  the  very  night 
of  which  we  are  writing,  and  was  now  a  few  miles  from 
Orleans  with  I'Hopital,  who  heartil}'  avowed  himself  for 
the  queen -mother.  Chiverni,  whose  fidelity  was  very 
justl}'   suspected    by   the   Guises,    had    escaped    from 


I 


222  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

Orleans,  and  reached  Econen  in  ten  hours,  by  a  forced 
march  which  almost  cost  him  his  life.  There  he  told 
the  Connetable  de  Montmorency  of  the  peril  of  his 
nephew,  the  Prince  de  Conde,  and  the  audacious  hopes 
of  the  Guises.  The  Connetable,  furious  at  the  thought 
that  the  prince's  life  hung  upon  that  of  Francois  II., 
started  for  Orleans  at  once  with  a  hundred  noblemen 
and  fifteen  hundred  cavalr3\  In  order  to  take  the 
Messieurs  de  Guise  by  surprise  he  avoided  Paris,  and 
came  direct  from  Ecouen  to  Corbeil,  and  from  Corbeil 
to  Pithiviers  b}'  the  vallej'  of  the  Essonne. 

"  Soldier  against  soldier,  we  must  leave  no  chances," 
he  said  on  the  occasion  of  this  bold  march. 

Anne  de  Montmorency,  who  had  saved  France  at  the 
time  of  the  invasion  of  Provence  by  Charles  V.,  and 
the  Due  de  Guise,  who  had  stopped  the  second  invasion 
of  the  emperor  at  Metz,  were,  in  truth,  the  two  great 
warriors  of  France  at  this  period.  Catherine  had 
awaited  this  precise  moment  to  rouse  the  inextinguish- 
able hatred  of  the  Connetable,  whose  disgrace  and 
banishment  were  the  work  of  the  Guises.  The  Marquis 
de  Simeuse,  however,  who  commanded  at  Gien,  being 
made  aware  of  the  large  force  approaching  under  com- 
mand of  the  Connetable,  jumped  on  his  horse  hoping  to 
reach  Orleans  in  time  to  warn  the  duke  and  cardinal. 

Sure  that  the  Connetable  would  come  to  the  rescue  of 
his  nephew,  and  full  of  confidence  in  the  Chancelier 
THopital's  devotion  to  the  royal  cause,  the  queen- 
mother  revived  the  hopes  and  the  boldness  of  the 
Reformed  party.  The  Colignys  and  the  friends  of  the 
house  of  Bourbon,  aware  of  their  danger,  now  made 
common  cause  with  the  adherents  of  the  queen-mother. 


Catherine  de*  Medici. 


223 


A  coalition  between  these  opposing  interests,  attacked 
by  a  common  enem}',  formed  itself  silentl3'  in  the  States- 
general,  where  it  soon  became  a  question  of  appointing 
Catherine  as  regent  in  case  the  king  should  die.  Cath- 
erine, whose  faith  in  astrology  was  much  greater  than 
her  faith  in  the  Church,  now  dared  all  against  her 
oppressors,  seeing  that  her  son  was  ill  and  apparently 
dying  at  the  expiration  of  the  time  assigned  to  his 
life  b}'  the  famous  sorceress,  whom  Nostradamus  had 
brought  to  her  at  the  chateau  of  Chaumont. 


224  Catherine  de'  Medici 


XL 


AMBROISE    PARE. 

Some  days  before  the  terrible  end  of  the  reign  of 
Fran9ois  II.,  the  king  insisted  on  sailing  down  the 
Loire,  wishing  not  to  be  in  the  town  of  Orleans  on  the 
day  when  the  Prince  de  Conde  was  executed.  Having 
yielded  the  head  of  the  prince  to  the  Cardinal  de  Lor- 
raine, he  was  equally  in  dread  of  a  rebellion  among  the 
townspeople  and  of  the  prayers  and  supplications  of 
the  Princesse  de  Conde.  At  the  moment  of  embarka- 
tion, one  of  the  cold  winds  which  sweep  along  the  Loire 
at  the  beginning  of  winter  gave  him  so  sharp  an  ear- 
ache that  he  was  obliged  to  return  to  his  apartments ; 
there  he  took  to  his  bed,  not  leaving  it  again  until  he 
died.  In  contradiction  of  the  doctors,  who,  with  the 
exception  of  Chapelain,  were  his  enemies,  Ambroise 
Pare  insisted  that  an  abscess  was  formed  in  the  king's 
head,  and  that  unless  an  issue  were  given  to  it,  the 
danger  of  death  would  increase  dail3\  Notwithstanding 
the  lateness  of  the  hour,  and  the  curfew  law,  which  was 
sternly  enforced  in  Orleans,  at  this  time  practically'  in 
a  state  of  siege,  Pare's  lamp  shone  from  his  window, 
and  he  was  deep  in  study,  when  Lecamus  called  to 
him  from  below.  Recognizing  the  voice  of  his  old 
friend,   Pare  ordered  that  he  should  be  admitted. 

"  You  take  no  rest,  Ambroise  ;  while  saving  the  lives 
of  others  you  are  wasting  your  own,"  said  the  furrier 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  225 

as  he  entered,  looking  at  the  surgeon,  who  sat,  with 
opened  books  and  scattered  instruments,  before  the  head 
of  a  dead  man,  lately  buried  and  now  disinterred,  iu 
which  he  had  cut  an  opening. 

"  It  is  a  matter  of  saving  the  king's  life." 

''Are  you  sure  of  doing  it,  Ambroise?"  cried  the 
old  man,  trembling. 

"  As  sure  as  I  am  of  m}"  own  existence.  The  king, 
m}'  old  friend,  has  a  morbid  ulcer  pressing  on  his  brain, 
which  will  presently  suffuse  it  if  no  vent  is  given  to  it, 
and  the  danger  is  imminent.  But  by  boring  the  skull 
I  expect  to  release  the  pus  and  clear  the  head.  I  have 
already  performed  this  operation  three  times.  It  was 
invented  by  a  Piedmontese  ;  but  I  have  had  the  honor  to 
perfect  it.  Tiie  first  operation  I  performed  was  at  the 
siege  of  Metz,  on  Monsieur  de  Fienne,  whom  I  cured, 
who  was  afterwards  all  the  more  intelligent  in  conse- 
quence.  His  was  an  abscess  caused  by  the  blow  of 
an  arquebuse.  The  second  was  on  the  head  of  a 
pauper,  on  whom  I  wanted  to  prove  the  value  of  the 
audacious  operation  Monsieur  de  Fienne  had  allowed 
me  to  perform.  The  third  I  did  in  Faris  on  a  gentle- 
man, who  is  now  entirely  recovered.  Trepanning  — 
that  is  the  name  given  to  the  operation  —  is  very 
little  known.  Fatients  refuse  it,  partl}^  because  of  the 
imperfection  of  the  instruments ;  but  I  have  at  last 
improved  them.  I  am  practising  now  on  this  skull,  that 
I  may  be  sure  of  not  failing  to-morrow,  when  I  operate 
on  the  head  of  the  king." 

''  You  ought  indeed  to  be  ver}^  sure  you  are  right,  for 
your  own  head  would  be  in  danger  in  case  — " 

"1  'd  wager  my  life  I  can  cure  him,"  replied  Ambroise, 

15 


226  Catherine  de'  3fedici, 

with  the  conviction  of  a  man  of  genius.  "Ah!  my 
old  friend,  where 's  the  danger  of  boring  into  a  skull 
with  proper  precautions?  That  is  what  soldiers  do  in 
battle  every  day  of  their  lives,  without  taking  any 
precautions." 

''My  son,"  said  the  burgher,  boldly,  "  do  3'ou  know 
that  to  save  the  king  is  to  ruin  F'rance?  Do  you  know 
that  this  instrument  of  yours  will  place  the  crown  of 
the  Valois  on  the  head  of  the  Lorrain  who  calls  himself 
the  heir  of  Charlemagne?  Do  you  know  that  surgery 
and  policy  are  at  this  moment  sternl}'  opposed  to  each 
other?  Yes,  the  triumph  of  your  genius  will  be  the 
death  of  your  religion.  If  the  Guises  gain  the  regency, 
the  blood  of  the  Reformers  will  flow  like  water.  Be  a 
greater  citizen  than  you  are  a  surgeon  ;  oversleep  your- 
self to-morrow  morning  and  leave  a  free  field  to  the 
other  doctors  who  if  they  cannot  cure  the  king  will  cure 
France.'* 

"  I !  "  exclaimed  Pare.  "  I  leave  a  man  to  die  when 
I  can  cure  him  ?  No,  no !  were  I  to  hang  as  an  abettor 
of  Calvin  I  shall  go  early  to  court.  Do  you  not  fe€4 
that  the  first  and  onl^'  reward  I  shall  ask  will  be  the  life 
of  your  Christophe?  Surel}'  at  such  a  moment  Queen 
Marv  can  denv  me  nothino:." 

"Alas!  m}'  friend,"  returned  Lecamus,  "the  little 
king  has  refused  the  pardon  of  the  Prince  de  Conde  to 
the  princess.  Do  not  kill  vour  religion  bv  savino:  the 
life  of  a  man  who  ought  to  die." 

"Do  not  you  meddle  with  God's  ordering  of  the 
future  !  "  cried  Pare.  "  Honest  men  can  have  but  one 
motto:  Fais  ce  que  dois^  advienne  quepourra!  —  do 
thy  dut}',  come  what  will.     That  is  what  I  did  at  the 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  227 

siege  of  Calais  when  I  put  my  foot  on  the  face  of  the 
Due  cle  Guise,  —  I  ran  the  risk  of  being  strangled  by  liis 
friends  and  his  servants  ;  but  to-day  I  am  surgeon  to 
the  king ;  moreover  I  am  of  the  Reformed  rehgion  ; 
and  3'et  the  Guises  are  my  friends.  I  shall  save  the 
king,''  cried  the  surgeon,  with  the  sacred  enthusiasm 
of  a  conviction  bestowed  by  genius,  "  and  God  will  save 
France  !  " 

A  knock  was  heard  on  the  street  door  and  presently 
one  of  Fare's  servants  gave  a  paper  to  Lecamus,  who 
read  aloud  these  terrifying  words  :  — 

**  A  scaffold  is  being  erected  at  the  convent  of  the  Recol- 
lets  :  the  Prince  de  Conde  will  be  beheaded  there  tomorrow." 

Ambroise  and  Lecamus  looked  at  each  other  with  an 
expression  of  the  deepest  horror. 

"  I  will  go  and  see  it  for  my  self,''  said  the  furrier. 

No  sooner  was  he  in  the  open  street  than  Ruggiero 
took  his  arm  and  asked  by  what  means  Ambroise  Pare 
proposed  to  save  the  king.  Fearing  some  tricker}',  the 
old  man,  instead  of  answering,  replied  that  he  wished  to 
go  and  see  the  scaffold.  The  astrologer  accompanied 
him  to  the  place  des  Recollets,  and  there,  truly  enough, 
they  found  the  carpenters  putting  up  the  horrible  frame- 
work by  torchlight. 

''  He}',  my  friend,"  said  Lecamus  to  one  of  the  men, 
*'  what  are  3'ou  doing  here  at  this  time  of  night?  '* 

"  We  are  preparing  for  the  hanging  of  heretics,  as 
the  blood-letting  at  Amboise  did  n't  cure  them,"  said  a 
young  Recollet  who  was  superintending  the  woi'k. 

"  Monseigneur  the  cardinal  is  ver}-  right,"  said  Rug- 
giero;  prudently  ;  ''  but  in  m}'  country  we  do  better." 


228  Catheinjie  de'  Medici. 

"  What  do  jou  do?  "  said  the  young  priest. 

"  We  burn  them." 

Lecamus  was  forced  to  lean  on  the  astrologer's  arm, 
for  his  legs  gave  vva}'  beneath  him  ;  he  thought  it  prob- 
able that  on  the  morrow  his  son  would  hang  from  one 
of  those  gibbets.  The  poor  old  man  was  thrust  between 
two  sciences,  astrolog}"  and  surger}',  both  of  which 
promised  him  the  life  of  his  son,  for  whom  in  all  proba- 
bility that  scaffold  was  now  erecting.  In  the  trouble 
and  distress  of  his  mind,  the  Florentine  was  able  to 
knead  him  like  dough. 

''  Well,  m}^  worthy  dealer  in  minever,  what  do  you 
say  now  to  the  Lorraine  jokes  ?  "  whispered  Ruggiero. 

''Alas!  you  know  I  would  give  my  skin  if  that  of 
ni}'  son  were  safe  and  sound." 

"•That  is  talking  like  your  trade,"  said  the  Italian  ; 
<^  but  explain  to  me  the  operation  which  Ambroise  means 
to  perform  upon  the  king,  and  in  return  I  will  promise 
you  the  life  of  your  son." 

''  Faithfully?"  exclaimed  the  old  furrier. 

''  Shall  I  swear  it  to  you?  "  said  Ruggiero. 

Thereupon  the  poor  old  man  repeated  his  conversa- 
tion with  Ambroise  Pare  to  the  astrologer,  who,  the 
moment  that  the  secret  of  the  great  surgeon  was  di- 
vulged to  him,  left  the  poor  father  abruptly  in  the  street 
in  utter  despair. 

"  What  the  devil  does  he  mean,  that  miscreant  ?  "  cried 
Lecamus,  as  he  watched  Ruggiero  hurr3ing  with  rapid 
steps  to  the  place  de  TElstape. 

Lecamus  was  ignorant  of  the  terrible  scene  that  was 
taking  place  around  the  royal  bed,  where  the  imminent 
danger  of  the  king's  death  and  the  consequent  loss  of 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  229 

power  to  the  Guises  had  caused  the  hast\'  erection  of 
tlie  scaffold  for  the  Prince  de  Conde,  whose  sentence  had 
been  pronounced,  as  it  were  by  default,  —  the  execution 
of  it  being  delayed  b}'  the  king's  illness. 

Absolutely  no  one  but  the  persons  on  dut}^  were  in 
the  halls,  staircases,  and  courtyard  of  the  royal  resi- 
dence, Le  Bailliage.  The  crowd  of  courtiers  w^ere 
flockins:  to  the  house  of  the  king  of  Navarre,  on  whom 
the  regency  would  devolve  on  the  death  of  the  king,  ac- 
cordingr  to  the  laws  of  the  kinojdora.  The  French  nobil- 
ity,  alarmed  by  the  audacity  of  the  Guises,  felt  the  need 
of  rallvinof  around  the  chief  of  the  vounorer  branch, 
when,  ignorant  of  the  queen-mother's  Itahan  polic}', 
the}'  saw  her  the  apparent  slave  of  the  duke  and  cardi- 
nal. Antoine  de  Bourbon,  faithful  to  his  secret  agree- 
ment with  Catherine,  was  bound  not  to  renounce  the 
regency  in  her  favor  until  the  States-general  had  de- 
clared for  it. 

The  solitude  in  which  the  kinsf's  house  was  left  had  a 
powerful  effect  on  the  mind  of  the  Due  de  Guise  when, 
on  his  return  from  an  inspection,  made  by  way  of  pre- 
caution through  the  cit}',  he  found  no  one  there  but  the 
friends  who  were  attached  exclusiveh"  to  his  own  for- 
tunes. The  chamber  in  which  was  the  king's  bed  adjoined 
the  great  hall  of  the  Bailliage.  It  was  at  that  period  pan- 
elled in  oak.  The  ceiling,  composed  of  long,  narrow 
boards  carefully  joined  and  painted,  was  covered  with 
blue  arabesques  on  a  gold  ground,  a  part  of  which  being 
torn  down  about  fifty  years  ago  was  instanth'  purchased  by 
a  lover  of  antiquities.  This  room,  hung  with  tapestr3% 
the  floor  being  covered  with  a  carpet,  was  so  dark  and 
gloomy  that  the  torches  threw  scarcely  anj'  light.     The 


230  Catherine  de*  Medici. 

vast  four-post  bedstead  with  its  silken  curtains  was  like 
a  tomb.  Beside  hei*  husband,  close  to  his  pillow,  sat 
Mary  Stuart,  and  near  her  the  Cardinal  de  Lorraine. 
Catherine  was  seated  in  a  chair  at  a  little  distance. 
The  famous  Jean  Chapelain,  the  physician  on  dut}^  (who 
was  afterwards  chief  physician  to  Charles  IX.)  was 
standing  before  the  fireplace.  The  deepest  silence 
reigned.  The  young  king,  pale  and  shrunken,  lay  as 
if  buried  in  his  sheets,  his  pinched  little  face  scarcely 
showing  on  the  pillow.  The  Duchesse  de  Guise,  sitting 
on  a  stool,  attended  Queen  Mar}',  while  on  the  other 
side,  near  Catherine,  in  the  recess  of  a  window,  Ma- 
dame de  Fiesque  stood  watching  the  gestures  and  looks 
of  the  queen-mother ;  for  she  knew  the  dangers  of  her 
position. 

In  the  hall,  notwithstanding  the  lateness  of  the  hour, 
Monsieur  de  Cypierre,  governor  of  the  Due  d'Orleans 
and  now  appointed  governor  of  the  town,  occupied  one 
corner  of  the  fireplace  with  the  two  Gondis.  Cardinal 
de  Tournon,  who  in  this  crisis  espoused  the  interests 
of  the  queen-mother  on  finding  himself  treated  as  an 
inferior  b}'  the  Cardinal  de  Lorraine,  of  whom  he  was 
certainly  the  ecclesiastical  equal,  talked  in  a  low  voice 
to  the  Gondis.  The  marshals  de  Vieilleville  and  Saint- 
Andre  and  the  keeper  of  the  seals,  who  presided  at  the 
States-general,  were  talking  together  in  a  whisper  of 
the  dangers  to  which  the  Guises  were  exposed. 

The  lieutenant-general  of  the  kingdom  crossed  the 
room  on  his  entrance,  casting  a  rapid  glance  about  him, 
and  bowed  to  the  Due  d'Orleans  whom  he  saw  there. 

*' Monseigneur,"  he  said,  ^^  this  will  teach  3'ou  to 
know  men.     The  Catholic  nobility  of  the  kingdom  have 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  231 

gone  to  pay  court  to  a  heretic  prince,  believing  that  the 
States-general  will  give  the  regency  to  the  heirs  of  a 
traitor  who  long  detained  in  prison  3'our  illustrious 
grandfather." 

Then  having  said  these  words,  which  were  destined 
to  plough  a  furrow  in  the  heart  of  the  young  prince,  he 
passed  into  the  bedroom,  where  the  king  was  not  so 
much  asleep  as  plunged  in  a  heavy  torpor.  The  Duo 
de  Guise  was  usually  able  to  correct  the  sinister  aspect 
of  his  scarred  face  by  an  affable  and  pleasing  manner, 
but  on  this  occasion,  when  he  saw  the  instrument  of  his 
power  breaking  in  his  very  hands,  he  was  unable  to 
force  a  smile.  The  cardinal,  whose  civil  courage  was 
equal  to  his  brother's  military  daring,  advanced  a  few 
steps  to  meet  him. 

''  Robertet  thinks  that  little  Pinard  is  sold  to  the 
queen-mother,"  he  whispered,  leading  the  duke  into  the 
hall;  ''  they  are  using  him  to  work  upon  the  members 
of  the  States-general." 

^'  Well,  what  does  it  signify  if  we  are  betrayed  by  a 
secretary  when  all  else  betrays  us?"  cried  the  lieuten- 
ant-general. ''The  town  is  for  the  Reformation,  and 
we  are  on  the  eve  of  a  revolt.  Yes !  the  Wasps  are 
discontented  ;  "  he  continued,  giving  the  Orleans  people 
their  nickname;  "  and  if  Pare  does  not  save  the  king 
we  shall  have  a  terrible  uprising.  Before  long  we  shall 
be  forced  to  besiege  Orleans,  which  is  nothing  but  a 
bog  of  Huguenots." 

"I  have  been  watching  that  Itahan  woman,"  said 
the  cardinal,  ''  as  she  sits  there  with  absolute  insensi- 
bihty.  She  is  watching  and  waiting,  God  forgive  her ! 
for  the  death  of  her  son  ;  and  I  ask  m3'self  whether  we 


232  Catherine  de'  Medici 

should  not  do  a  wise  thing  to  arrest  her  at  once,  and 
also  the  king  of  Navarre." 

*'  It  is  alread}^  more  than  we  want  upon  our  hands  to 
have  the  Prince  de  Conde  in  prison,"  replied  the 
duke. 

The  sound  of  a  horseman  ridino^  in  haste  to  the  gate 
of  the  Bailliage  echoed  through  the  hall.  The  duke 
and  cardinal  went  to  the  window,  and  by  the  light  of 
the  torches  which  were  in  the  portico  the  duke  recog- 
nized on  the  rider's  hat  the  famous  Lorraine  cross, 
which  the  cardinal  had  lately  ordered  his  partisans  to 
wear.  He  sent  an  officer  of  the  guard,  who  was 
stationed  in  the  antechamber,  to  give  entrance  to  the 
new-comer ;  and  went  himself,  followed  b}'  his  brother, 
to  meet  him  on  the  landing. 

"What  is  it,  m}'  dear  Simeuse?"  asked  the  duke, 
with  that  charm  of  manner  which  he  always  displayed 
to  military  men,  as  soon  as  he  recognized  the  governor 
of  Gien. 

"  The  Connetable  has  reached  Pithiviers ;  he  left 
Ecouen  with  two  thousand  cavalry  and  one  hundred 
nobles." 

''  With  their  suites?" 

"Yes,  monseigneur,"  replied  Simeuse ;  "in  all,  two 
thousand  six  hundred  men.  Some  say  that  Thore  is 
behind  them  with  a  bod\^  of  infantry.  If  the  Conne- 
table dela3's  awhile,  expecting  his  son,  you  still  have 
time  to  repulse   him  —  " 

"  Is  that  all  you  know  ?  Are  the  reasons  of  this 
sudden  call  to  arms  made  known?" 

"Montmorency  talks  as  little  as  he  writes ;  go  j^ou 
and  meet  him,  brother,  while  I  prepare  to  welcome  him 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  233 

with  the  head  of  his  nephew,"  said  the  cardinal,  giving 
orders  that  Robertet  be  sent  to  him  at  once. 

"  Vieilleville  !  "  cried  the  duke  to  the  raarechal,  who 
came  immediately  "  The  Connetable  has  the  andacit}' 
to  come  here  under  arms  ;  if  I  go  to  meet  him  will  you 
be  responsible  to  hold  the  town  ?  " 

"As  soon  as  yon  leave  it  the  burghers  will  ^y  to 
arms ;  and  who  can  answer  for  the  result  of  an  affair 
between  cavalry  and  citizens  in  these  narrow  streets  ?  " 
replied  the  marechaL 

"  Monseigneur,"  said  Robertet,  rushing  hastil}'  up 
the  stairs,  ''the  Chancelier  de  THdpital  is  at  the  gate 
and  aslis  to  enter  ;  are  we  to  let  him  in  ?  " 

''  Yes,  open  the  gate,"  answered  the  cardinal. 
*'  Connetable  and  chancelier  tosfether  would  be  dansfer- 
ous ;  we  must  separate  them.  We  have  been  boldly 
tricked  b}^  the  queen-mother  into  choosing  I'Hopital  as 
chancellor." 

Robertet  nodded  to  a  captain  of  the  guard,  who 
awaited  an  answer  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase  ;  then  he 
turned  round  quickly  to  receive  the  orders  of  the 
cardinal. 

"  Monseigneur,  I  take  the  libert}^"  he  said,  making 
one  last  effort,  "to  point  out  that  the  sentence  should 
be  approved  by  the  king  in  council.  If  3'ou  violate  the 
saw  on  a  prince  of  the  blood,  it  will  not  be  respected 
for  either  a  cardinal  or  a  Due  de  Guise." 

''Pinard  has  upset  3'our  mind,  Robertet,"  said  the 
cardinal,  sternl}'.  ''  Do  you  not  know  that  the  king 
signed  the  order  of  execution  the  day  he  was  about  to 
leave  Orleans,  in  order  that  the  sentence  might  be 
carried  out  in  his  absence?" 


I 


234  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

The  lieutenant-general  listened  to  this  discussion 
without  a  word,  but  he  took  his  brother  by  the  arm  and 
led  him  into  a  corner  of  the  hall. 

"Undoubtedly,"  he  said,  "  the  heirs  of  Charlemagne 
have  the  right  to  recover  the  crown  which  was  usurped 
from  their  house  b}'  Hugh  Capet;  but  can  they  do  it? 
The  pear  is  not  yet  ripe.  Our  nephew  is  dying,  and  the 
whole  court  has  gone  over  to  the  king  of  Navarre." 

''  The  king's  heart  failed  him,  or  the  Bearnais  would 
have  been  stabbed  before  now,"  said  the  cardinal ; 
"and  we  could  easil^^  have  disposed  of  the  Valois 
children." 

*'  We  are  very  ill-placed  here,"  said  the  duke  ;  "  the 
rebellion  of  the  town  will  be  supported  by  the  States- 
general.  L'Hopital,  whom  we  protected  while  the 
queen-mother  opposed  his  appointment,  is  to-day  against 
us,  and  3'et  it  is  all-important  that  we  should  have  the 
justiciary  with  us.  Catherine  has  too  manj'  supporters 
at  the  present  time  ;  we  cannot  send  her  back  to  Italy. 
Besides,  there  are  still  three  Valois  princes  —  " 

"  She  is  no  longer  a  mother,  she  is  all  queen,"  said 
the  cardinal.  ''  In  m}-  opinion,  this  is  the  moment  to 
make  an  end  of  her.  Vigor,  and  more  and  more  vigor  ! 
that 's  my  prescription  !  "  he  cried. 

So  saying,  the  cardinal  returned  to  the  king's  cham- 
ber, followed  by  the  duke.  The  priest  went  straight  to 
the  queen-mother. 

"  The  papers  of  Lasagne,  the  secretary  of  the  Prince 
de  Conde,  have  been  communicated  to  you,  and  you 
now  know  that  the  Bourbons  are  endeavoring  to  de- 
throne your  son." 

"  I  know  all  that,"  said  Catherine. 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  235 

» 

"  Well,  then,  will  you  give  orders  to  arrest  the  king 
of  Navarre?" 

'•There  is,"  she  said  with  dignit}^,  "a  lieutenant- 
general  of  the  kingdom." 

At  this  instant  FranQois  II.  groaned  piteously,  com- 
plaining aloud  of  the  terrible  pains  in  his  ear.  The 
physician  left  the  fireplace  where  he  was  warming  him- 
self, and  went  to  the  bedside  to  examine  the  king's 
head.  . 

''  Well,  monsieur?  "  said  the  Due  de  Guise,  interrog- 
ativel}'. 

*'  I  dare  not  take  upon  myself  to  apply  a  blister  to 
draw  the  abscess.  Maitre  Ambroise  has  promised 
to  save  the  king's  life  by  an  operation,  and  I  miglit 
thwart  it.'^ 

"  Let  us  postpone  the  treatment  till  to-morrow  morn- 
ing," said  Catherine,  coldl}^,  ''  and  order  all  the  physi- 
cians to  be  present ;  for  we  all  know  the  calumnies  to 
which  the  death  of  kings  gives  rise.'^ 

She  went  to  her  son  and  kissed  his  hand ;  then  she 
withdrew  to  her  own  apartments. 

"  With  what  composure  that  audacious  daughter  of  a 
shop-keeper  alluded  to  the  death  of  the  dauphin,  poi- 
soned by  Montecuculi,  one  of  her  own  Italian  followers  !  '^ 
said  Mary  Stuart. 

"Mary!"  cried  the  little  king,  ''my  grandfather 
never  doubted  her  innocence." 

''  Can  we  prevent  that  woman  from  coming  here  to- 
morrow ?  "  said  the  queen  to  her  uncles  in  a  low  voice. 

"  What  will  become  of  us  if  the  king  dies?  "  returned 
the  cardinal,  in  a  whisper.  ''  Catherine  will  shovel  us 
all  into  his  grave." 


I 


236  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

m 

Thus  the  question  was  plain!}-  put  between  Catherine 
de'  Medici  and  the  house  of  Lorraine  during  that  fatal 
night.  The  arrival  of  the  Connetable  de  Montmorency 
and  the  Chancelier  de  THopital  were  distinct  indica- 
tions of  rebellion  ;  the  morning  of  the  next  -day  would 
therefore  be  decisive. 


Catherine  de   Medici.  237 


XII. 


DEATH    OF    FRANCOIS   II. 
i 

On  the  morrow  the  queen-mother  was  the  first  to 
enter  the  king's  chamber.  She  found  no  one  there  but 
Mar\'  Stuart,  pale  and  weary,  who  had  passed  the  night 
in  prayer  beside  the  bed.  The  Duchesse  de  Guise  had 
kept  her  mistress  company,  and  the  maids  of  honor  had 
taken  turns  in  relieving  one  another.  The  young  king 
slept.  Neither  the  duke  nor  the  cardinal  had  yet  ap- 
peared. The  priest,  who  was  bolder  than  the  soldier, 
had,  it  was  afterward  said,  put  forth  his  utmost  energy 
during  the  night  to  induce  his  brother  to  make  himself 
king.  But,  in  face  of  the  assembled  States-general, 
and  threatened  by  a  battle  with  Montmorenc}',  the 
Balafre  declared  the  circumstances  unfavorable ;  he 
refused,  against  his  brother's  utmost  urgency,  to  arrest 
the  king  of  Navarre,  the  queen-mother,  I'Hopital,  the 
Cardinal  de  Tournon,  the  Gondis,  Ruggiero,  and 
Birago,  objecting  that  such  violent  measures  would 
bring  on  a  general  rebellion.  He  postponed  the  cardi- 
nal's scheme  until  the  fate  of  Francois  II.  should  be 
determined. 

The  deepest  silence  reigned  in  the  king's  chamber. 
Catherine,  accompanied  b}-  Madame  de  Fiesque,  went 
to  the  bedside  and  gazed  at  her  son  with  a  semblance 
of  grief  that  was  admirably  simulated.     She  put  her 


238  Catherine  de    Medici, 

handkerchief  to  her  ej^es  and  walked  to  the  window 
where  Madame  de  Fiesqne  brought  her  a  seat.  Thence 
she  could  see  into  the  courtyard. 

It  had  been  agreed  between  Catherine  and  the  Cardinal 
de  Tournon  that  if  the  Connetable  should  successful!}' 
enter  the  town  the  cardinal  would  come  to  the  king's 
house  with  the  two  Gondis ;  if  otherwise,  he  would 
come  alone.  At  nine  in  the  morning  the  duke  and 
cardinal,  followed  b}'  their  gentlemen,  who  remained  in 
the  hall,  entered  the  king's  bedroom,  —  the  captain  on 
duty  having  informed  them  that  Ambroise  Pare  had 
arrived,  together  with  Chapelain  and  three  other  physi- 
cians, who  hated  Pare  and  were  all  in  the  queen- mother's 
interests. 

A  few  moments  later  and  the  great  hall  of  the  Bailli- 
age  presented  much  the  same  aspect  as  that  of  the 
Salle  des  gardes  at  Blois  on  the  day  when  Christophe 
was  put  to  the  torture  and  the  Due  de  Guise  was  pro- 
claimed lieutenant-governor  of  the  kingdom,  —  with  the 
single  exception  that  whereas  love  and  jo}'  overflowed 
the  royal  chamber  and  the  Guises  triumphed,  death  and 
mourning  now  reigned  within  that  darkened  room,  and 
the  Guises  felt  that  power  was  slipping  through  their 
fingers.  The  maids  of  honor  of  the  two  queens  were 
again  in  their  separate  camps  on  either  side  of  the  fire- 
place, in  which  glowed  a  monstrous  fire.  The  hall  was 
filled  with  courtiers.  The  news  —  spread  about,  no  one 
knew  how  —  of  some  daring  operation  contemplated  b}' 
Ambroise  Pare  to  save  the  king's  life,  had  brought  back 
the  lords  and  gentlemen  who  had  deserted  the  house  the 
da}'  before.  The  outer  staircase  and  courtj'ard  were 
filled  by  an  anxious  crowd.    The  scaffold  erected  during 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  239 

the  night  for  the  Prince  de  Conde  opposite  to  the  con- 
vent of  the  Recollets,  had  amazed  and  startled  the  whole 
nobility.  All  present  spoke  in  a  low  voice  and  the  talk 
was  the  same  mixture  as  at  Blois,  of  frivolous  and  seri- 
ous, light  and  earnest  matters.  The  habit  of  expecting 
troubles,  sudden  revolutions,  calls  to  arms,  rebellions, 
and  great  events,  which  marked  the  long  period  during 
which  the  house  of  Valois  was  slowly  being  extinguished 
in  spite  of  Catherine  de'  Medici's  great  efforts  to  pre- 
serve it,  took  its  rise  at  this  time. 

A  deep  silence  prevailed  for  a  certain  distance  beyond 
the  door  of  the  king's  chamber,  which  was  guarded  by 
two  halberdiers,  two  pages,  and  b}'  the  captain  of  the 
Scotch  guard.  Antoine  de  Bourbon,  king  of  Navarre, 
held  a  prisoner  in  his  own  house,  learned  by  his 
present  desertion  the  hopes  of  the  courtiers  who  had 
flocked  to  him  the  day  before,  and  was  horrified  by  the 
news  of  the  preparations  made  during  the  night  for  the 
execution  of  his  brother. 

Standing  before  the  fireplace  in  the  great  hall  of  the 
Bailliage  was  one  of  the  greatest  and  noblest  figures 
of  that  da}^  —  the  Chancelier  de  I'Hopital,  wearing  his 
crimson  robe  lined  and  edged  with  ermine,  and  his  cap 
on  his  head  according  to  the  privilege  of  his  office. 
This  courageous  man,  seeing  that  his  benefactors  were 
traitorous  and  self-seeking,  held  firmly  to  the  cause  of 
the  kings,  repr-esented  by  the  queen-mother  ;  at  the  risk 
of  losing  his  head,  he  had  gone  to  Rouen  to  consult 
with  the  Connetable  de  Montmorency.  No  one  ven- 
tured to  draw  him  from  the  rever}-  in  which  he  was 
plunged.  Robertet,  the  secretar}'  of  State,  two  mar- 
shals of  France,  Vieilleville,  and  Saint- Andre,  and  the 


240  Catherine  de   Medici, 

keeper  of  the  seals,  were  collected  in  a  group  before 
the  chancellor.  The  courtiers  present  were  not  pre- 
cisely jesting ;  but  their  talk  was  malicious,  especially 
among  those  who  were  not  for  the  Guises. 

Presently  voices  were  heard  to  rise  in  the  king's 
chamber.  The  two  marshals,  Robertet  and  the  chan- 
cellor went  nearer  to  the  door ;  for  not  only  was  the  life 
of  the  king  in  question,  but,  as  the  whole  court  knew 
well,  the  chancellor,  the  queen-mother,  and  her  adher- 
ents were  in  the  utmost  danger.  A  deep  silence  fell  on 
the  whole  assembly. 

Ambroise  Pare  had  b}'  this  time  examined  the  king's 
head  ;  he  thought  the  moanent  propitious  for  his  opera- 
tion ;  if  it  was  not  performed  suffusion  would  take  place, 
and  Francois  II.  might  die  at  an}'  moment.  As  soon 
as  the  duke  and  cardinal  entered  the  chamber  he 
explained  to  all  present  the  causes  of  the  king's  illness, 
stating  that  in  so  urgent  a  case  it  was  necessary  to 
trepan  the  head,  and  he  now  waited  till  the  king's  phy- 
sician ordered  him  to  perform  the  operation. 

"  Cut  the  head  of  my  son  as  though  it  were  a  plank ! 
—  with  that  horrible  instrument !  "  cried  Catherine  de' 
Medici.  ''Maitre  Ambroise,  I  will  not  permit  it." 

The  ph3'sicians  were  consulting  together ;  but  Cath- 
erine spoke  in  so  loud  a  voice  that  her  words  reached, 
as  she  intended  they  should,  beyond  the  door. 

••'  But,   madame,   if  there    is  no  other,  way  to  save- 
him?"   said  Marj'  Stuart,   weeping. 

''  Ambroise,"  cried  Catherine  ;  ''  remember  that  your 
head  will  answer  for  the  king's  life." 

"  We  are  opposed  to  the  treatment  suggested  by 
Maitre  Ambroise,"  said  the  three  physicians.     "The 


I 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  241 

king  can  be  saved  by  injecting  through  the  esfr  a 
remedy  which  will  draw  the  contents  of  the  abscess 
through  that  passage." 

The  Due  de  Guise,  who  was  watching  Catherine's 
face,  suddenly  went  up  to  her  and  drew  her  into  the 
recess  of  the   window. 

"Madame,"  he  said,  "you  wish  the  death  of  3'our 
son ;  you  are  in  league  with  our  enemies,  and  have  been 
since  Blois.  This  morning  the  Counsellor  Viole  told 
the  son  of  3'our  furrier  that  the  Prince  de  Conde's  head 
was  about  to  be  cut  off.  That  young  man,  who,  when 
the  question  was  applied,  persisted  in  denying  all  rela- 
tions with  the  prince,  made  a  sign  of  farewell  to  him  as 
he  passed  before  the  window  of  his  dungeon.  You  saw 
your  unhappy  accomplice  tortured  with  ro^'al  insensi- 
bility. You  are  now  endeavoring  to  prevent  the  recov- 
er}' of  3'our  eldest  son.  Your  conduct  forces  us  to 
believe  that  the  death  of  the  dauphin,  which  placed  the 
crown  on  your  husband's  head  was  not  a  natural  one, 
and  that  Montecuculi  was  your  —  " 

'^  Monsieur  le  chancelier !  "  cried  Catherine,  at  a  sign 
from  whom  Madame  de  Fiesque  opened  both  sides  of 
the  bedroom  door. 

The  company  in  the  hall  then  saw  the  scene  that  was 
taking  place  in  the  ro3'al  chamber :  the  livid  little  king, 
his  face  half  dead,  his  e3'es  sightless,  his  lips  stammer- 
ing the  word  "  Mary,"  as  he  held  the  hand  of  the 
weeping  queen ;  the  Duchesse  de  Guise  motionless, 
frightened  b3'  Catherine's  daring  act ;  the  duke  and 
cardinal,  also  alarmed,  keeping  close  to  the  queen- 
mother  and  resolving  to  have  her  arrested  on  the  spot 
b}'  Maille-Breze  ;  lastl3',  the  tall  Ambroise  Pare,  assisted 

16 


242  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

b}'  the  king's  ph^'sician,  holding  his  instrument  in  his 
hand  but  not  daring  to  begin  the  operation,  for  which 
composure  and  total  silence  were  as  necessarj'  as  the 
consent  of  the  other  surgeons. 

"  Monsieur  le  chancelier,"  said  Catherine,  "  the  Mes- 
sieurs de  Guise  wish  to  authorize  a  strange  operation 
upon  the  person  of  the  king ;  Ambroise  Pare  is  prepar- 
ing to  cut  open  his  head.  1,  as  the  king's  mother  and 
a  member  of  the  council  of  the  regency,  —  I  protest 
against  what  appears  to  me  a  crime  of  lese-majeste. 
The  king's  ph^'sicians  advise  an  injection  through  the 
ear,  which  seems  to  me  as  efficacious  and  less  danger- 
ous than  the  brutal  operation  proposed  by  Pare." 

When  the  company  in  the  hall  heard  these  words  a 
smothered  murmur  rose  from  their  midst ;  the  cardinal 
allowed  the  chancellor  to  enter  the  bedroom  and  then 
he  closed  the  door. 

*'  I  am  lieutenant-general  of  the  kingdom,"  said  the 
Due  de  Guise  ;  "  and  I  would  have  you  know,  Monsieur 
le  chancelier,  that  Ambroise,  the  king's  surgeon,  answers 
for  his  life." 

''Ah!  if  this  be  the  turn  that  things  are  taking!" 
exclaimed  Ambroise  Pare.  "  I  know  my  rights  and 
how  I  should  proceed."  He  stretched  his  arm  over  the 
bed.  "  This  bed  and  the  king  are  mine.  1  claim  to  be 
sole  master  of  this  case  and  solely  responsible.  I  know 
the  duties  of  my  office ;  I  shall  operate  upon  the  king 
without  the  sanction  of  the  physicians." 

"  Save  him !  "  said  the  cardinal,  "  and  you  shall  be 
the  richest  man  in  France." 

"  Go  on  !  "  cried  Mary  Stuart,  pressing  the  surgeon's 
hand. 


I 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  243 

*'  I  cannot  prevent  it,"  said  the  chancellor;  "  but  I 
shall  record  the  protest  of  the  queen-mother/' 

"  Robertet !  "  called  the  Due  de  Guise. 

When  Robertet  entered,  the  lieutenant-general  pointed 
to  the  chancellor. 

"  I  appoint  you  chancellor  of  France  in  the  place  of 
that  traitor,"  he  said.  "  Monsieur  de  Maille,  take  Mon- 
sieur de  THopital  and  put  him  in  the  prison  of  the 
Prince  de  Conde.  As  for  j'ou,  madame,"  he  added, 
turning  to  Catherine ;  ^'  your  protest  will  not  be  re- 
ceived ;  you  ought  to  be  aware  that  any  such  protest 
must  be  supported  by  sufficient  force.  I  act  as  the 
faithful  subject  and  103'al  servant  of  king  Fran9ois  II., 
my  master.  Go  on,  Ambroise,"  he  added,  looking  at 
the  surgeon. 

''Monsieur  de  Guise,''  said  I'Hopital ;  ''if  you 
employ  violence  either  upon  the  king  or  upon  the  chan- 
cellor of  France,  remember  that  enough  of  the  nobility 
of  France  are  in  that  hall  to  rise  and  arrest  3^ou  as  a 
traitor." 

"  Oh  !  my  lords,"  cried  the  great  surgeon  ;  "if  3'ou 
continue  these  arguments  you  will  soon  proclaim 
Charles  IX  !  —  for  king  Franqois  is  about  to  die." 

Catherine  de'  Medici,  absolutely'  impassive,  gazed 
from  the  window. 

"  Well,  then,  we  shall  employ  force  to  make  ourselves 
masters  of  this  room,"  said  the  cardinal,  advancing  to 
the  door. 

But  when  he  opened  it  even  he  was  terrified ;  the 
whole  house  was  deserted !  The  courtiers,  certain  now 
of  the  death  of  the  king,  had  gone  in  a  bodj'  to  the 
king  of  Navarre. 


244  Catherine  de   Medici, 

"Well,  go  on,  perform  your  duty,"  cried  Marj^ 
Stuart,  vehemently',  to  Ambroise.  '^  I  —  and  jou, 
duchess,"  she  said  to  Madame  de  Guise,  — "  will 
protect   3*ou." 

"  Madame,"  said  Ambroise  -,  "  my  zeal  was  carrying 
me  away.  The  doctors,  with  the  exception  of  my 
friend  Chapelain,  prefer  an  injection,  and  it  is  my  duty 
to  submit  to  their  wishes.  If  1  had  been  chief  surgeon 
and  chief  physician,  which  I  am  not,  the  king's  life 
would  probably  have  been  saved.  Give  that  to  me, 
gentlemen,"  he  said,  stretching  out  his  hand  for  the 
syringe,  which  he  proceeded  to  fill. 

"-  Good  God ! '"  cried  Mary  Stuart,  ''  but  I  order  you 
to  —  " 

'^  Alas!  madame,"  said  Ambroise,  "  I  am  uuder  the 
direction  of  these  gentlemen." 

The  young  queen  placed  herself  between  the  surgeon, 
the  doctors,  and  the  other  persons  present.  The  chief 
physician  held  the  king's  head,  and  Ambroise  made  the 
injection  into  the  ear.  The  duke  and  the  cardinal 
watched  the  proceeding  attentively.  Robertet  and 
Monsieur  de  Maille  stood  motionless.  Madame  de 
Fiesque,  at  a  sign  from  Catherine,  glided  unperceived 
from  the  room.  A  moment  later  I'Hdpital  boldly  opened 
the  door  of  the  king's  chamber. 

'^  I  arrive  in  good  time,"  said  the  voice  of  a  man 
whose  hast}'  steps  echoed  through  the  great  hall,  and 
who  stood  the  next  moment  on  the  threshold  of  the 
open  door.  ''  Ah,  messieurs,  so  3'ou  meant  to  take  off 
the  head  of  my  good  nephew,  the  Prince  de  Conde? 
Instead  of  that,  you  have  forced  the  lion  from  his  lair 
and — here  I  am!"  added  the  Connetable  de  Mont- 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  245 

morency.  "  Ambroise,  you  shall  not  plunge  your  knife 
into  the  head  of  my  king.  The  first  prince  of  the 
blood,  Antoine  de  Bourbon,  the  Prince  de  Conde,  the 
queen-mother,  the  Connetable,  and  the  chancellor  forbid 
the  operation." 

To  Catherine's  great  satisfaction,  the  king  of  Navarre 
and  the  Prince  de  Conde  now  entered  the  room. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  said  the  Due  de  Guise, 
laying  his  hand  on  his   dagger. 

'^  It  means  that  in  my  capacity  as  Connetable,  I  have 
dismissed  the  sentinels  of  all  your  posts.  Tete  Dieu  ! 
3^ou  are  not  in  an  enemy's  countr}',  methinks.  The 
king,  our  master,  is  in  the  midst  of  his  loyal  subjects, 
and  the  States-general  must  be  suffered  to  deliberate 
at  liberty.  I  come,  messieurs,  from  the  States-general. 
I  carried  the  protest  of  my  nephew  de  Conde  before 
that  assembl}',  and  three  hundred  of  those  gentlemen 
have  released  him.  You  wish  to  shed  royal  blood  and 
to  decimate  the  nobility  of  the  kingdom,  do  you  ?  Ha  ! 
in  future,  I  defy  3'ou,  and  all  your  schemes,  Messieurs 
de  Lorraine.  If  you  order  the  king's  head  opened,  by 
this  sword  which  saved  France  from  Charles  V.,  I  say 
it  shall  not  be  done  —  '^ 

"All  the  more,"  said  Ambroise  Pare;  '^because  it 
is  now  too  late  ;  the  suffusion  has  begun." 

"Your  reign  is  over,  messieurs,"  said  Catherine  to 
the  Guises,  seeing  from  Pare's  face  that  there  was  no 
longer  an}^  hope. 

"Ah  !  madame,  jou  have  killed  3'our  own  son,"  cried 
Mary  Stuart  as  she  bounded  like  a  lioness  from  the  bed 
to  the  window  and  seized  the  queen-mother  b}'  the  arm, 
gripping  it  violentlj'. 


246  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

"  My  dear,"  replied  Catherine,  giving  her  daughter- 
in-law  a  cold,  keen  glance  in  which  she  allowed  her 
hatred,  repressed  for  the  last  six  months,  to  overflow ; 
"  you,  to  whose  inordinate  love  we  owe  this  death,  you 
will  now  go  to  reign  in  3'our  Scotland,  and  you  will 
start  to-morrow.  I  am  regent  de  facto. '^  The  three 
physicians  having  made  her  a  sign,  ^^  Messieurs,"  she 
added,  addressing  the  Guises,  "it  is  agreed  between 
Monsieur  de  Bourbon,  appointed  lieutenant-general  of 
the  kingdom  bj"  the  States-general,  and  me  that  the 
conduct  of  the  affairs  of  the  State  is  our  business 
solel3\     Come,  monsieur  le  chancelier/' 

''  The  king  is  dead!  "  said  the  Due  de  Guise,  com- 
pelled to  perform  his  duties  as  Grand-master. 

*'  Long  live  King  Charles  IX.  !  "  cried  all  the  noble- 
men who  had  come  with  the  king  of  Navarre,  the  Prince 
de  Conde,  and  the  Connetable. 

The  ceremonies  which  follow  the  death  of  a  king  of 
France  were  performed  in  almost  total  solitude.  When 
the  king-at-arms  proclaimed  aloud  three  times  in  the 
hall,  "  The  king  is  dead  !  "  there  were  very  few  persons 
present  to  reply,  ' '  Vive  le  roi !  ^' 

The  queen-mother,  to  whom  the  Comtesse  de  Fiesque 
had  brought  the  Due  d'Orleans,  now  Charles  IX.,  left 
the  chamber,  leading  her  son  by  the  hand,  and  all  the 
remaining  courtiers  followed  her.  No  one  was  left  ni 
the  house  where  Francois  II.  had  drawn  his  last  breath, 
but  the  duke  and  the  cardinal,  the  Duchesse  de  Guise, 
Mary  Stuart,  and  Dayelle,  together  with  the  sentries  at 
the  door,  the  pages  of  the  Grand-master,  those  of  the 
cardinal,  and  their  private  secretaries. 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  247 

"  Vive  la  France  !  "  cried  several  Reformers  in  the 
street,  sounding  the  first  cry  of  the  opposition. 

Robertet,  who  owed  all  he  was  to  the  duke  and  cardi- 
nal, terrified  by  their  scheme  and  its  present  failure, 
went  over  secretly  to  tlie  queen-mother,  whom  the  am- 
bassadors of  Spain,  England,  the  Empire,  and  Poland, 
hastened  to  meet  on  the  staircase,  brought  thither  by 
Cardinal  de  Tournon,  who  had  gone  to  notify  them  as 
soon  as  he  had  pade  Queen  Catherine  a  sign  from  the 
courtyard  at  the  moment  when  she  protested  against 
the  operation  of  Ambroise  Pare. 

"  Well  1  "  said  the  cardinal  to  the  duke,  "  so  the 
sons  of  Louis  d'Outre-mer,  the  heirs  of  Charles  de  Lor- 
raine flinched  and  lacked  courage." 

"  We  should  have  been  exiled  to  Lorraine,"  replied 
the  duke.  ''I  declare  to  you,  Charles,  that  if  the 
crown  lay  there  before  me  I  would  not  stretch  out  my 
hand  to  pick  it  up.     That 's  for  my  son  to  do." 

''  Will  he  have,  as  you  have  had,  the  army  and 
Church  on  his  side  ?  " 

"  He  will  have  something  better." 

"What?" 

''The  people!" 

"  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  Mary  Stuart,  clasping  the  stifl^ened 
hand  of  her  first  husband,  now  dead,  ''  there  is  none 
but  me  to  weep  for  this  poor  boy  who  loved  me  so !  " 

''  How  can  we  patch  up  matters  with  the  queen- 
mother?"  said  the  cardinal. 

"  Wait  till  she  quarrels  with  the  Huguenots,"  replied 
the  duchess. 

The  conflicting  interests  of  the  house  of  Bourbon, 
of  Catherine,  of   the    Guises,   and   of   the   Reformed 


248  Catherine  de    Medici. 

party  produced  such  confusion  in  the  town  of  Orleans 
that,  three  days  after  the  king's  death,  his  bod}', 
completely  forgotten  in  the  Bailliage  and  put  into  a 
coffin  by  the  menials  of  the  house,  was  taken  to  Saint- 
Denis  in  a  covered  waggon,  accompanied  only  b}'  the 
Bishop  of  Senlis  and  two  gentlemen.  When  the  piti- 
able procession  reached  the  little  town  of  Etampes,  a 
servant  of  the  Chancelier  I'Hopital  fastened  to  the  wag- 
gon this  severe  inscription,  which  history  has  preserved  : 
"Tanneguy  de  Chastel,  where  art  thou?  and  3'et  thou 
wert  a  Frenchman  !  "  —  a  stern  reproach,  which  fell  with 
equal  force  on  Catherine  de'  Medici,  Mary  Stuart,  and 
the  Guises.  What  Frenchman  does  not  know  that 
Tanneguy  de  Chastel  spent  thirty  thousand  crowns 
of  the  coinage  of  that  day  (one  million  of  our  francs) 
at  the  funeral  of  Charles  VII.,  the  benefactor  of  his 
house? 

No  sooner  did  the  tolling  of  the  bells  announce  to 
the  town  of  Orleans  that  Francois  II.  was  dead,  and  the 
rumor  spread  that  the  Connetable  de  Montmorency 
had  ordered  the  flinging  open  of  the  gates  of  the  town, 
than  Tourillon,  the  glover,  rushed  up  into  the  garret  of 
his  house  and  went  to  a  secret  hiding-place. 

"  Good  heavens  !  can  he  be  dead?"  he  cried. 

Hearing  the  words,  a  man  rose  to  his  feet  and  an- 
swered, ''Ready  to  serve!"  —  the  password  of  the 
Reformers  who  belonged  to  Calvin. 

This  man  was  Chaudieu,  to  whom  Tourillon  now  re- 
lated the  events  of  the  last  eight  days,  during  which 
time  he  had  prudently  left  the  minister  alone  in  his 
hiding-place  with  a  twelve-pound  loaf  of  bread  for 
his  sole  nourishment. 


Catherine  cZe'  Medici,  249 

''  Go  instantly  to  the  Prince  de  Conde,  brotlier :  ask 
him  to  give  me  a  safe-conduct ;  and  find  me  a  horse," 
cried  the  minister.     •'  I  must  start  at  once." 

I''  Write  him  a  Hue,  or  he  will  not  receive  me." 
"  Here,"  said  Chaudieu,  after  writing  a  few  words, 
*'  ask  for  a  pass  from  the  king  of  Navarre,  for  I  must 
go  to  Geneva  without  a  moment's  loss  of  time." 


250  Catheri7ie  de    Medici. 


XIII. 


CALVIN. 


Two  hours  later  all  was  ready,  and  the  ardent  min- 
ister was  on  his  way  to  Switzerland,  accompanied  by  a 
nobleman  in  the  service  of  the  king  of  Navarre  (of  whom 
Chaiidieu  pretended  to  be  the  secretarj-),  carrying  with 
him  despatches  from  the  Reformers  in  the  Dauphine. 
This  sudden  departure  was  chief!}'  in  the  interests  of 
Catherine  de'  Medici,  who,  in  order  to  gain  time  to 
establisli  her  power,  had  made  a  bold  proposition  to  the 
Reformers  which  was  kept  a  profound  secret.  This 
strange  proceeding  explains  the  understanding  so  sud- 
denly apparent  between  herself  and  the  leaders  of  the 
Reform.  The  wily  woman  gave,  as  a  pledge  of  her  good 
faith,  an  intimation  of  her  desire  to  heal  all  differences 
between  the  two  churches  by  calling  an  assembly,  which 
should  be  neither  a  council,  nor  a  conclave,  nor  a  synod, 
but  should  be  known  by  some  new  and  distinctive  name,  if 
Calvin  consented  to  the  project.  When  this  secret  was 
afterwards  divulged  (be  it  remarked  in  passing)  it  led 
to  an  alliance  between  the  Due  de  Guise  and  the  Con- 
netable  de  Montmorency  against  Catherine  and  the  king 
of  Navarre,  —  a  strange  alliance  !  known  in  history  as 
the  Triumvirate,  the  Marechal  de  Saint-Andre  being  the 
third  personage  in  the  pureW  Catholic  coalition  to  which 
this  singular  proposition  for  a  '^colloquy"  gave   rise. 


Catherine  de*  Medici,  251 

The  secret  of  Catherine's  wily  policy  was  riglitl}'  under- 
stood by  the  Guises  ;  they  felt  certain  that  the  queen 
cared  nothing  for  this  mysterious  assembly,  and  was 
onl}'  temporizing  with  her  new  allies  in  order  to  secure 
a  period  of  peace  until  the  majority  of  Charles  IX. ;  but 
none  the  less  did  they  deceive  the  Connetable  into  fear- 
ing a  collusion  of  real  interests  between  the  queen  and 
the  Bourbons,  —  whereas,  in  reality,  Catherine  was 
playing  them  all  one  against  another. 

The  queen  had  become,  as  the  reader  will  perceive, 
extremely  powerful  in  a  very  short  time.     The  spirit  of 
discussion  and  controversy  which  now  sprang  up  was 
singularl}'  favorable  to  her  proposition.     The  Catholics 
and  the  Reformers  were  equally  pleased  to  exhibit  their 
brilliancy   one    after   another   in    this    tournament  of 
words ;  for  that  is  what  it  actually  was,  and  no  more. 
It  is  extraordinary  that  historians  have  mistaken  one 
of  the  wiUest  schemes  of  the  great  queen  for  uncertainty 
and  hesitation  !     Catherine  never  went  more  directly  to 
her  own  ends  than  in  just  such  schemes  which  appeared 
to  thwart  them.     The  king  of  Navarre,  quite  incapa- 
of  understanding  her  motives,  fell  into  her  plan  in  . 
sincerity,  and  despatched  Chaudieu  to  Calvin,  as  we  have 
seen.     The  minister  had  risked  his  life  to  be  secretly  in 
Orleans  and  watch  events  ;  for  he  was,  while  there,  in 
hourly  peril  of  being  discovered  and  hung  as  a  man 
under  sentence  of  banishment. 

According  to  the  then  fashion  of  travelling,  Chaudieu 
could  not  reach  Geneva  before  the  month  of  February, 
and  the  negotiations  were  not  likel}^  to  be  concluded  be- 
fore the  end  of  March  ;  consequently  the  assemblj"  could 
certainly  not  take  place  before  the  month  of  May,  1561. 


252  Catherine  de'  MedicL 

Catherine,  meantime,  intended  to  amuse  the  court  and 
the  various  conflicting  interests  by  the  coronation  of 
the  king,  and  the  ceremonies  of  his  first  '*  lit  de  jus- 
tice," at  which  FHopital  and  de  Thou  recorded  the 
letters-patent  by  which  Charles  IX.  confided  the  ad- 
ministration to  his  mother  in  common  with  the  present 
lieutenant-general  of  the  kingdom,  Antoine  de  Navarre, 
the  weakest  prince  of  those  days. 

Is  it  not  a  strange  spectacle  this  of  the  great  king- 
dom of  France  waiting  in  suspense  for  the  "  jes,"  or 
"  no  "  of  a  French  burgher,  hitherto  an  obscure  man, 
living  for  many  years  past  in  Geneva?  The  transal- 
pine pope  held  in  check  by  the  pontiff  of  Geneva  !  The 
two  Lorrain  princes,  lately  all-powerful,  now  paralyzed 
b}'  the  momentary'  coalition  of  the  queen-mother  and 
the  first  prince  of  the  blood  with  Calvin  !  Is  not  this, 
I  sa}',  one  of  the  most  instructive  lessons  ever  given 
tx)  kings  by  histor}',  —  a  lesson  which  should  teach  them 
to  study  men,  to  seek  out  genius,  and  eniplo}^  it,  as 
did  Louis  XIV.,  wherever  God  has  placed  it? 

Calvin,  whose  name  was  not  Calvin  but  Cauvin, 
was  the  son  of  a  cooper  at  Noyon  in  Picard}'.  The 
region  of  his  birth  explains  in  some  degree  the  obsti- 
nacy combined  with  capricious  eagerness  which  distin- 
guished tliis  arbiter  of  the  destinies  of  France  in  the 
sixteenth  centur}'.  Nothing  is  less  known  than  the 
nature  of  this  man,  who  gave  birth  to  Geneva  and  to 
the  spirit  that  emanated  from  that  cit}'.  Jean-Jacques 
Rousseau,  who  had  verj'  little  historical  knowledge, 
has  completely  ignored  the  influence  of  Calvin  on  his 
republic.  At  first  the  embr^'o  Reformer,  who  lived  in 
one  of  the  humblest  houses  in  the  upper  town,  near  the 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  253 

church  of  Saint-Pierre,  over  a  carpenter's  shop  (first  re- 
semblance between  him  and  Robespierre),  had  no  great 

B  authority  in  Geneva.  In  fact  for  a  long  time  his  power 
was  malevolently  checked  b}'  the  Genevese.     The  town 

IB  was  the  residence  in  those  days  of  a  citizen  whose  fame, 
like  that  of  several  others,  remained  unknown  to  the 
world  at  large  and  for  a  time  to  Geneva  itself.  This 
man,  Farel,  about  the  year  1537,  detained  Calvin  in 
Geneva,  pointing  out  to  him  that  the  place  could  be 
made  the  safe  centre  of  a  reformation  more  active  and 
thorough  than  that  of  Luther.  Farel  and  Calvin  regarded 
Lutheranism  as  an  incomplete  work,  —  insufficient  in 
itself  and  without  any  real  grip  upon  France.  Ge- 
neva, midway  between  France  and  Itah',  and  speaking 
the  French  language,  was  admirably  situated  for  ready 
communication  with  Germany,  France,  and  Italy.  Cal- 
vin thereupon  adopted  Geneva  as  the  site  of  his  moral 
fortunes  ;  he  made  it  thenceforth  the  citadel  of  his  ideas. 
Tiie  Council  of  Geneva,  at  Farel's  entreaty,  author- 
ized Calvin  in  September,  1 538,  to  give  lectures  on  the- 
ology. Calvin  left  the  duties  of  the  ministry  to  Farel, 
his  first  disciple,  and  gave  himself  up  patiently  to  the 
work  of  teaching  his  doctrine.  His  authorit}'.  which 
became  so  absolute  in  the  last  3'ears  of  his  life,  was 
obtained  with  difficulty  and  very  slowl}'.  The  great 
agitator  met  with  such  serious  obstacles  that  he  was 
banished  for  a  time  from  Geneva  on  account  of  the 
severity  of  his  reform.  A  part}'  of  honest  citizens  still 
clung  to  their  old  luxur}'  and  their  old  customs.  But, 
as  usually  happens,  these  good  people,  fearing  ridicule, 
would  not  admit  the  real  object  of  their  efforts,  and  kept 
up  their  warfare  against  the  new  doctrines  on  points 


254  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

altogether  foreign  to  the  real  question.  Calvin  insisted 
that  leavened  bread  should  be  used  for  the  communion, 
and  that  all  feasts  should  be  abolished  except  Sundays. 
These  innovations  were  disapproved  of  at  Berne  and 
at  Lausanne.  Notice  was  served  on  the  Genevese  to 
conform  to  the  ritual  of  Switzerland.  Calvin  and  Farel 
resisted  ;  their  politic  opponents  used  this  disobedience 
to  drive  them  from  Geneva,  whence  the}^  were,  in  fact, 
banished  for  several  jears.  Later  Calvin  returned  tri- 
umphanth'  at  the  demand  of  his  flock.  Such  persecu- 
tions alwaj's  become  in  the  end  the  consecration  of  a 
moral  power ;  and,  in  this  case,  Calvin's  return  was 
the  beginning  of  his  era  as  prophet.  He  then  organ- 
ized his  religious  Terror,  and  the  executions  began.  On 
his  reappearance  in  the  cit}'  he  was  admitted  into  the 
ranks  of  the  Genevese  burghers ;  but  even  then,  after 
fourteen  jears'  residence,  he  was  not  made  a  member  of 
of  the  Council.  At  the  time  of  which  we  write,  when 
Catherine  sent  her  envo}'  to  him,  this  king  of  ideas  had 
no  other  title  than  that  of  "  pastor  of  the  Church  of 
Geneva."  Moreover,  Calvin  never  in  his  life  received 
a  salar}'  of  more  than  one  hundred  and  fift}'  francs  in 
money  yearh',  fifteen  hundred-weight  of  wheat,  and  two 
barrels  of  wine.  His  brother,  a  tailor,  kept  a  shop 
close  to  the  place  Saint-Pierre,  in  a  street  now  occupied 
by  one  of  the  large  printing  establishments  of  Geneva. 
Such  personal  disinterestedness,  which  was  lacking  in 
Voltaire,  Newton,  and  Bacon,  but  eminent  in  the  lives 
of  Rabelais,  Spinosa,  Lo3'ola,  Kant,  and  Jean-Jacques 
Rousseau,  is  indeed  a  magnificent  frame  to  those  ardent 
and  sublime  figures. 

The  career  of  Robespierre  can  alone  picture  to  the 


Catherine  cW  Medici.  255 

tminds  of  the  present  da}'  that  of  Calvin,  who,  founding 
lis  power  on  the  same  bases,  was  as  despotic  and  as 
jriiel  as  the  lawyer  of  Arras.  It  is  a  noticeable  fact 
ihat  Picardy  (Arras  and  Noyon)  furnished  both  these 
i.instruraents  of  reformation !  Persons  who  wish  to 
jtudy  the  motives  of  the  executions  ordered  by  Calvin 
111  tind,  all  relations  considered,  another  1793  in  Gen- 
eva. Calvin  cut  off  the  head  of  Jacques  Gruet  '*  for 
having  written  impious  letters,  libertine  verses,  and  for 
working:  to  overthrow  ecclesiastical  ordinances."  Re- 
fleet  upon  that  sentence,  and  ask  yourselves  if  the  worst 
[tyrants  in  their  saturnalias  ever  gave  more  horribl}'  bur- 
lesque reasons  for  their  cruelties.  Valentin  Gentilis, 
condemned  to  death  for  '^involuntary  heres}',"  escaped 
execution  only  by  making  a  submission  far  more 
ignominious  than  was  ever  imposed  b}'  the  Catholic 
Church.  Seven  3'ears  before  the  conference  which  was 
now  to  take  place  in  Calvin's  house  on  the  proposals  of 
the  queen-mother,  Michel  Servet,  a  Frenchman^  travel- 
ling through  Switzerland,  was  arrested  at  Geneva, 
tried,  condemned,  and  burned  alive,  on  Calvin's  accu- 
sation, for  having  "  attacked  the  mystery  of  the  Trin- 
ity," in  a  book  which  was  neither  written  nor  published 
in  Geneva.  Remember  the  eloquent  remonstrance  of 
Jean- Jacques  Rousseau,  whose  book,  overthrowing  the 
Catholic  religion,  written  in  France  and  published  in 
Holland,  was  burned  by  the  hangman,  while  the  author, 
a  foreigner,  was  merel}'  banished  from  the  kingdom 
where  he  had  endeavored  to  destro}^  the  fundamental 
proofs  of  religion  and  of  authority.  Compare  the  con- 
duct of  our  Parliament  with  that  of  the  Genevese  ty- 
rant.    Again  :  Bolsee  was  brought  to  trial  for  ''  having 


256  Catherine  cW  Medici, 

other  ideas  than  those  of  Calvin  on  predestination." 
Consider  these  things,  and  ask  yourselves  if  Fouquier- 
Tinville  did  worse.  The  savage  religious  intolerance 
of  Calvin  was,  morally  speaking,  more  implacable  than 
the  savage  political  intolerance  of  Robespierre.  On  a 
larger  stage  than  that  of  Geneva,  Calvin  would  have 
shed  more  blood  than  did  the  terrible  apostle  of  politi- 
cal equality  as  opposed  to  Catholic  equalitj'.  Three 
centuries  earlier  a  monk  of  Picardy  drove  the  whole 
West  upon  the  East.  Peter  the  Hermit,  Calvin,  and 
Robespierre,  each  at  an  interval  of  three  hundred  3ears 
and  all  three  from  the  same  region,  w^ere,  politically 
speaking,  the  Archimedean  screws  of  their  age, — at 
each  epoch  a  Thought  which  found  its  fulcrum  in  the 
self-interest  of  mankind. 

Calvin  was  undoubtedly  the  maker  of  that  melan- 
choly' town  called  Geneva,  where,  onl}'  ten  years  ago,  a 
man  said,  pointing  to  a  porte-cochere  in  the  upper 
town,  the  first  ever  built  there  :  "  B}'  that  door  luxury 
has  invaded  Geneva.''  Calvin  gave  birth,  by  the  stern- 
ness of  his  doctrines  and  his  executions,  to  that  form  of 
h3'pocritical  sentiment  called  ''  cant.''  ^  According  to 
those  who  practise  it,  good  morals  consist  in  renounc- 
ing the  arts  and  the  charms  of  life,  in  eating  richly  but 
without  luxury,  in  silentl}'  amassing  money  without  en- 
joying it  otherwise  than  as  Calvin  enjo3'ed  power  —  by 
thought.  Calvin  imposed  on  all  the  citizens  of  his 
adopted  town  the  same  gloomy  pall  which  he  spread 
over  his  own  life.  He  created  in  the  Consistorj-  a  Cal- 
vinistic  inquisition,  absolutely  similar  to  the  revolution- 
arj'  tribunal  of  Robespierre.     The  Consistorj'  denounced 

1  Momerie, 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  257 

the  persons  to  be  condemned  to  the  Council,  and  Calvin 
ruled  the  Council  through  the  Consistor}',  just  as  Robes- 
pierre ruled  the  Convention  through  the  Club  of  the 
Jacobins.  In  this  wa}'  an  eminent  magistrate  of  Ge- 
neva was  condemned  to  two  months'  imprisonment,  the 
loss  of  all  his  offices,  and  the  right  of  ever  obtaining 
others  "  because  he  led  a  disorderly  life  and  was  inti- 
timate  with  Calvin's  enemies."  Calvin  thus  became  a 
legislator.  He  created  the  austere,  sober,  common- 
place, and  hideously  sad,  but  irreproachable  manners 
and  customs  which  characterize  Geneva  to  the  present 
day,  —  customs  preceding  those  of  England  called  Pu- 
ritanism, which  were  due  to  the  Cameronians,  disciples 
of  Cameron  (a  Frenchman  deriving  his  doctrine  from 
Calvin),  whom  Sir  Walter  Scott  depicts  so  admirably. 
The  povert}'  of  a  man,  a  sovereign  master,  who  nego- 
tiated, power  to  power,  with  kings,  demanding  armies 
and  subsidies,  and  plunging  both  hands  into  their  sav- 
ings laid  aside  for  the  unfortunate,  proves  that  thought, 
used  solely  as  a  means  of  domination,  gives  birth  to 
political  misers,  —  men  who  enjo}'  by  their  brains  onl}', 
and,  like  the  Jesuits,  want  power  for  power's  sake.  Pitt, 
Luther,  Calvin,  Robespierre,  all  those  Harpagons  of 
power,  died  without  a  penu}'.  The  inventor\'  taken  in 
Calvin's  house  after  his  death,  which  comprised  all  his 
propert}',  even  his  books,  amounted  in  value,  as  history 
records,  to  two  hundred  and  fifty  francs.  That  of 
Luther  came  to  about  the  same  sum  ;  his  widow,  the 
famous  Catherine  de  Bora,  was  forced  to  petition  for  a 
pension  of  five  hundred  francs,  which  was  granted  to 
her  by  an  Elector  of  Germany.  Potemkin,  Richelieu, 
Mazarin,  those  men  of  thought  and  action,  all  three  of 

17 


258  Catherine  de^  Medici. 

whom  made  or  laid  the  foundation  of  empires,  each  left 
over  three  hundred  millions  behind  them.  The}'  had 
hearts ;  they  loved  women  and  the  arts ;  the}*  built, 
the}'  conquered  ;  whereas  with  the  exception  of  the  wife 
of  Luther,  the  Helen  of  that  Iliad,  all  the  others  had 
no  tenderness,  no  beating  of  the  heart  for  an}'  woman 
with  which  to  reproach  themselves. 

This  brief  digression  was  necessarj'  in  order  to  ex- 
plain Calvin's  position  in  Geneva. 

During  the  first  days  of  the  month  of  Februar}'  in 
the  3'ear  1561,  on  a  soft,  warm  evening  such  as  we 
ma}'  sometimes  find  at  that  season  on  Lake  Leman, 
two  horsemen  arrived  at  the  Pr^-l'fiveque,  —  thus  called 
because  it  was  the  former  country-place  of  the  Bishop 
of  Geneva,  driven  from  Switzerland  about  thirty  years 
earlier.  These  horsemen,  who  no  doubt  knew  the  laws 
of  Geneva  ^bout  the  closing  of  the  gates  (then  a  neces- 
sity and  now  very  ridiculous)  rode  in  the  direction  of  the 
Port€  de  Rive  ;  but  they  stopped  their  horses  suddenly 
on  catching  sight  of  a  man,  about  fifty  years  of  age, 
leaning  on  the  arm  of  a  servant-woman,  and  walking 
slowly  toward  the  town.  This  man,  who  was  rather 
stout,  walked  with  diflficulty,  putting  one  foot  after  the 
other  with  pain  apparently,  for  he  wore  round  shoes  of 
black  velvet,  laced  in  front. 

''It  is  he!''  said  Chaudieu  to  the  other  horseman, 
who  immediately  dismounted,  threw  the  reins  to  his 
companion,  and  went  forward,  opening  wide  his  arms 
to  the  man  on  foot. 

The  man,  who  was  Jean  Calvin,  drew  back  to  avoid 
the  embrace,  casting  a  stern  look  at  his  disciple.  At 
fifty  years  of  age  Calvin  looked  as  though  he  were  sixty. 


Catherine  de*  Medici,  259 

-^tout  and  stocky  in  figure,  he  seemed  shorter  still  be- 
IHanse  the  horrible  sufferings  of  stone  in  the  bladder 
ol)liged  him  to  bend  almost  doable  as  he  walked. 
These  pains  were  complicated  by  attacks  of  gout  of 
the  worst  kind.  P^verj'  one  trembled  before  that  face, 
almost  as  broad  as  it  was  long,  on  which,  in  spite  of  its 
roundness,  there  was  as  little  human-kindness  as  on 
that  of  Henr}^  the  Eighth,  whom  Calvin  greatl}"  resem- 
bled. Sufferings  which  gave  him  no  respite  were 
manifest  in  the  deep-cut  lines  starting  from  each  side 
of  tlie  nose  and  following  the  curve  of  the  moustache 
till  they  were  lost  in  the  thick  gray  beard.  This  face, 
though  red  and  inflamed  like  that  of  a  heavy  drinker, 
showed  spots  where  the  skin  was  yellow.  In  spite  of 
the  velvet  cap,  which  covered  the  huge  square  head,  a 
vast  forehead  of  noble  shape  could  be  seen  and  admired  ; 
beneath  it  shone  two  dark  eyes,  which  must  have  flashed 
forth  flame  in  moments  of  anger.  Whether  by  reason 
of  his  obesity,  or  because  of  his  thick,  short  neck,  or  in 
consequence  of  his  vigils  and  his  constant  labors,  Cal- 
vin*s  head  was  sunk  between  his  broad  shoulders,  which 
obliged  him  to  wear  a  fluted  ruff  of  very  small  dimen- 
sions, on  which  his  face  seemed  to  lie  like  the  head  of  John 
the  Baptist  on  a  charger.  Between  his  moustache  and 
his  beard  could  be  seen,  like  a  rose,  his  small  and  fresh 
and  eloquent  little  mouth,  shaped  in  perfection.  The 
face  was  divided  by  a  square  nose,  remarkable  for  the 
flexibility  of  its  entire  length,  the  tip  of  which  was  sig- 
nificantly flat,  seeming  the  more  in  harmony'  with  the  pro- 
digious power  expressed  by  the  form  of  that  imperial 
head.  Though  it  might  have  been  diflScult  to  discover 
ou  his  features  any  trace  of  the  weekly  headaches  which 


260  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

tormented  Calvin  in  the  intervals  of  the  slow  fever  that 
consumed  him,  suffering,  ceaselessly  resisted  by  study 
and  by  will,  gave  to  that  mask,  superficially  so  florid, 
a  certain  something  that  was  terrible.  Perhaps  this 
impression  was  explainable  by  the  color  of  a  sort  of 
greas}'  layer  on  the  skin,  due  to  the  sedentary-  habits  of 
the  toiler,  showing  evidence  of  the  perpetual  struggle 
which  went  on  between  that  valetudinarian  tempera- 
ment and  one  of  the  strongest  wills  ever  known  in 
the  history  of  the  human  mind.  The  mouth,  though 
charming,  had  an  expression  of  cruelt3'.  Chastit}-, 
necessitated  by  vast  designs,  exacted  by  so  many  sickly 
conditions,  was  written  upon  that  face.  Regrets  were 
there,  notwithstanding  the  serenity  of  that  all-powerful 
brow,  together  with  pain  in  the  glance  of  those  eyes, 
the  calmness  of  which  was  terrifying. 

Calvin's  costume  brought  into  full  relief  this  powerful 
head.  He  wore  the  well-known  cassock  of  black  cloth, 
fastened  round  his  waist  by  a  black  cloth  belt  with  a 
brass  buckle,  which  became  thenceforth  the  distinctive 
dress  of  all  Calvinist  ministers,  and  was  so  uninterest- 
ing to  the  ej'e  that  it  forced  the  spectator's  attention 
upon  the  wearer's  face. 

"  I  suffer  too  much,  Theodore,  to  embrace  3'ou," 
said  Calvin  to  the  elegant  cavalier. 

Theodore  de  Beze,  then  fort3'-two  jears  of  age  and 
latel}^  admitted,  at  Calvin's  request,  as  a  Genevese 
burgher,  formed  a  violent  contrast  to  the  terrible  pas- 
tor whom  he  had  chosen  as  his  sovereign  guide  and 
ruler.  Calvin,  like  all  burghers  raised  to  moral  sover- 
eignt}',  and  all  inventors  of  social  systems,  was  eaten  up 
with  jealous}'.     He  abhorred  his  disciples;  he  wanted 


Catherine  de'  Medici  261 

no  equals ;  he  could  not  bear  the  slightest  contradic- 
tion. Yet  there  was  between  him  and  this  graceful 
^avalier  so  marked  a  difference,  Theodore  de  Beze  was 
lifted  with  so  charming  a  personaUt}'  enhanced  by  a 
I  poHteness  trained  b}'  court  life,  and  Calvin  felt  him  to 
be  so  unlike  his  other  surly  janissaries,  that  the  stern 
'  reformer  departed  in  de  Beze's  case  from  his  usual  hab- 
its. He  never  loved  him,  for  this  harsh  legislator 
totally  ignored  all  friendship,  but,  not  fearing  him  in 
the  light  of  a  successor,  he  liked  to  play  with  Theodore 
as  Richelieu  played  with  his  cat;  he  found  him  supple 
l^nd  agile.  Seeing  how  admirabW  de  Beze  succeeded  in 
all  his  missions,  he  took  a  fancy  to  the  polished  instru- 
ment of  which  he  knew  himself  the  mainspring  and  the 
manipulator ;  so  true  is  it  that  the  sternest  of  men  can- 
not do  without  some  semblance  of  affection.  Theodore 
was  Calvin's  spoilt  child ;  the  harsh  reformer  never 
scolded  him ;  he  forgave  him  his  dissipations,  his 
amours,  his  fine  clothes  and  his  eleorance  of  lansfua^e. 
Perhaps  Calvin  was  not  unwilling  to  show  that  the 
Eeformation  had  a  few  men  of  the  world  to  compare  with 
the  men  of  the  court.  Theodore  de  Beze  was  anxious^ 
to  introduce  a  taste  for  the  arts,  for  literature,  and  for 
poesy  into  Geneva,  and  Calvin  listened  to  his  plans 
without  knitting  his  thick  gray  eyebrows.  Thus  the 
jU contrast  of  character  and  person  between  these  two  cel- 
ebrated men  was  as  complete  and  marked  as  the  differ- 
ence in  their  minds. 

Calvin  acknowledged  Chaudieu's  very  humble  salu- 
tation by  a  slight  inclination  of  the  head.  Chaudieu 
slii)ped  the  bridles  of  both  horses  through  his  arms  and 
followed  the  two  great  men  of  the  Reformation,  walking 


262  Catherine  de*  MedicL 

to  the  left,  behind  de  Beze,  who  was  on  Calvin's  right. 
The  servant-woman  hastened  on  in  advance  to  prevent 
the  closing  of  the  Porte  de  Rive,  by  informing  the  cap- 
tain of  the  guard  that  Calvin  had  been  seized  with 
sudden  acute  pains. 

Theodore  de  Beze  was  a  native  of  the  canton  of 
Vezelay,  which  was  the  first  to  enter  the  Confedera- 
tion, the  curious  history  of  which  transaction  has  been 
written  by  one  of  the  Thierrys.  The  burgher  spirit  of 
resistance,  endemic  at  Vezehiy,  no  doubt,  played  its 
part  in  the  person  of  this  man,  in  the  great  revolt  of  the 
Reformers  ;  for  de  Beze  was  undoubtedly  one  of  the 
most  singular  personalities  of  the  Heres}'. 

"You  suffer  still?  '*  said  Theodore  to  Calvin. 

"  A  Catholic  would  say,  ^  like  a  lost  soul,' "  replied  the 
Reformer,  with  the  bitterness  he  gave  to  his  slightest 
remarks.  *^  Ah !  I  shall  not  be  here  long,  my  son. 
What  will  become  of  you  without  me  ?  " 

''  We  shall  fight  by  the  light  of  your  books,"  said 
Chaudieu. 

Calvin  smiled ;  his  red  face  changed  to  a  pleased 
expression,  and  he  looked  favorably  at  Chaudieu. 

"  Well,  have  you  brought  me  news?  Have  they 
massacred  man}-  of  our  people?"  he  said  smiling,  and 
letting  a  sarcastic  jo>'  shine  in  his  brown  eyes. 

"  No,"  said  Chaudieu,  "  all  is  peaceful." 

"  So  much  the  worse,"  cried  Calvin  ;  "  so  much  the 
worse  I  All  pacification  is  an  evil,  if  indeed  it  is  not  a 
trap.  Our  strength  lies  in  persecution.  Where  should 
we  be  if  the  Church  accepted  Reform  ?  " 

"  But,"  said  Theodore,  >'  that  is  precisely  what  the 
queen- mother  appears  to  wish." 


Catherine  de   Medici,  263 

''She  is  capable  of  it/'  remarked  Calvin.  ''  I  study 
that  woman  —  " 

''  What,  at  this  distance?'*  cried  Chaudieu. 

"Is  there  any  distance  for  the  mind?"  replied  Cal- 
vin, sternly,  for  he  thought  the  interruption  irreverent. 
"  Catherine  seeks  power,  and  women  with  that  in  their 
eye  have  neither  honor  nor  faith.  But  what  is  she 
doing  now  ?  " 

"  I  bring  you  a  proposal  from  her  to  call  a  species  of 
council,"  replied  Theodore  de  Beze. 

"Near  Paris?"  asked  Calvin,  hastily. 

I  "Yes." 
"  Ha  !  so  much  the  better  !  "  exclaimed  the  Reformer. 
"  vie  are  to  try  to  understand  each  other  and  draw 
p  some  public  agreement  which  shall  unite  the  two 
hurches.'* 
"Ah!  if  she  would  only  have  the  courage  to  separ- 
ate the  French  Church  from  the  court  of  Rome,  and 
create  a  patriarch  for  France  as  they  did  in  the  Greek 
Church  !  "  cried  Calvin,  his  eyes  glistening  at  the  idea 
thus  presented  to  his  mind  of  a  possible  throne.  '*  But, 
my  son,  can  the  niece  of  a  pope  be  sincere?  She  is 
only  trying  to  gain  time." 

"  She  has  sent  away  the  Queen  of  Scots,"  said  Chau- 
dieu. 

"One  less!"  remarked  Calvin,  as  they  passed 
through  the  Porte  de  Rive.  "  Elizabeth  of  England 
will  restrain  that  one  for  us.  Two  neighboring  queens 
will  soon  be  at  war  with  each  other.  One  is  handsome, 
the  other  ugly, — a  first  cause  for  irritation;  besides, 
there's  the  question  of  illegitimacy  — " 

He  rubbed  his  hands,  and  the  character  of  his  joy 


264  Catherine  de*  Medici, 

was  so  evidently  ferocious  that  de  Beze  shuddered  :  he 
saw  the  sea  of  blood  his  master  was  contemplating. 

"The  Guises  have  irritated  the  house  of  Bourbon," 
said  Theodore  after  a  pause.  They  came  to  an  open 
rupture  at  Orleans." 

'*Ah!"  said  Calvin,  "you  would  not  believe  me, 
m}'  son,  when  I  told  you  the  last  time  3'ou  started  for 
Nerac  that  we  should  end  by  stirring  up  war  to  the 
death  between  the  two  branches  of  the  house  of  France  ? 
I  have,  at  least,  one  court,  one  king  and  ro^al  family  on 
my  side.  My  doctrine  is  producing  its  effect  upon  the 
masses.  The  burghers,  too,  understand  me ;  the}-  re- 
gard as  idolators  all  who  go  to  Mass,  who  paint  the 
walls  of  their  churches,  and  put  pictures  and  statues 
within  them.  Ha !  it  is  far  more  eas}'  for  a  people  to 
demolish  churches  and  palaces  than  to  argue  the  ques- 
tion of  justiflcation  bj'  faith,  or  the  real  presence. 
Luther  was  an  argufier,  but  I,  —  I  am  an  arm}' ! 
He  was  a  reasoner,  I  am  a  system.  In  short,  my 
sons,  he  was  mereh^  a  skirmisher,  but  I  am  Tarquui ! 
Yes,  my  faithful  shall  destroy  pictures  and  pull  down 
churches ;  the}'  shall  make  mill- stones  of  statues  to 
grind  the  flour  of  the  peoples.  There  are  guilds  and 
corporations  in  the  States-general  —  I  will  have  nothing 
there  but  individuals.  Corporations  resist ;  they  see 
clear  where  the  masses  are  blind.  We  must  join  to 
our  doctrine  political  interests  which  will  consolidate  it, 
and  keep  together  the  materiel  of  my  armies.  I  have 
satisfied  the  logic  of  cautious  souls  and  the  minds  of 
thinkers  \)y  this  bared  and  naked  worship  which  cariies 
religion  into  the  world  of  ideas ;  I  have  made  the  peo- 
ples  understand  the  advantages  of  suppressing  cere- 


Catherine  de!  Medici.  265 

mony.  It  is  for  you,  Theodore,  to  enlist  their  interests  ; 
hold  to  that;  go  not  beyond  it.  All  is  said  in  the 
way  of  doctrine  ;  let  no  one  add  one  iota.  Why  does 
Cameron,  that  little  Gascon  pastor,  presume  to  write 
of  it?'* 

Calvin,  de  Beze,  and  Chauiieu  were  mounting  the 
steep  streets  of  the  upper  town  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd, 
but  the  crowd  paid  not  the  slightest  attention  to  the 
men  who  were  unchaining  the  mobs  of  other  cities  and 
preparing  them  to  ravage  France. 

After  this  terrible  tirade,  the  three  marched  on  in 
silence  till  the}^  entered  the  little  place  Saint-Pierre  and 
turned  toward  the  pastor's  house.  On  the  second  story 
of  that  house  (never  noted,  and  of  which  in  those  days  no 
one  is  ever  told  in  Geneva,  where,  it  may  be  remarked, 
Calvin  has  no  statue)  his  lodging  consisted  of  three 
chambers  with  common  pine  floors  and  wainscots,  at  the 
end  of  which  were  the  kitchen  and  the  bedroom  of  lus 
woman-servant.  The  entrance,  as  usually  happened  in 
most  of  the  burgher  households  of  Geneva,  was  through 
the  kitchen,  which  opened  into  a  little  room  with  two 
windows,  serving  as  parlor,  salon,  and  dining-room. 
Calvin's  study,  where  his  thouglit  had  wrestled  wMth 
suffering  for  the  last  fourteen  years,  came  next,  with 
the  bedroom  beyond  it.  Four  oaken  chairs  covered 
with  tapestry  and  placed  around  a  square  table  were 
the  sole  furniture  of  the  parlor.  A  stove  of  white  por- 
celain, standing  in  one  corner  of  the  room,  cast  out  a 
genth;  heet.  Panels  and  a  wainscot  of  pine  wood  left  in 
its  natural  state  without  decoration  covered  the  walls. 
Thus  the  nakedness  of  the  place  was  in  keeping  with 
the  sober  and  simple  life  of  the  Reformer. 


I 


266  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

"  Well?"  said  de  Beze  as  they  entered,  profiting  by 
the  few  moments  when  Chaudieu  left  them  to  put  up 
the  horse  at  a  neighboring  inn,  "  what  am  I  to  do? 
Will  you  agree  to  the  colloquy  ?  " 

"Of  course,"  replied  Calvin.  "And  it  is  3'ou,  my 
eon,  who  will  figlit  for  ns  there.  Be  peremptory,  be 
arbitrarj'.  No  one,  neither  tlie  queen  nor  the  Guises 
nor  I,  wants  a  pacification ;  it  would  not  suit  us  at  all. 
I  have  confidence  in  Duplessis-Mornay  ;  let  him  play  the 
leading  part.  Are  we  alone?"  he  added,  with  a  glance 
of  distrust  into  the  kitchen,  where  two  shirts  and  a  few 
collars  were  stretched  on  a  line  to  dry.  "Go  and  shut 
all  the  doors.  Well,"  he  continued  when  Theodore 
returned,  "  we  must  drive  the  king  of  Navarre  to  join 
the  Guises  and  the  Connetable  b}'  advising  him  to  break 
with  Queen  Catherine  de'  Medici.  Let  us  get  all  the 
benefit  of  that  poor  creature's  weakness.  If  he  turns 
against  the  Italian  she  will,  when  she  sees  herself  de- 
prived of  that  support,  necessarily  unite  with  the  Prince 
de  Conde  and  Colign}-.  Perhaps  this  manoeuvre  will  so 
compromise  her  that  she  will  be  forced  to  remain  on 
our  side." 

Theodore  de  Beze  caught  the  hem  of  Calvin's  cas- 
sock and  kissed  it. 

"Oh!  my  master,"  he  exclaimed,  "how  great  3'ou 
are !  " 

"  Unfortunately,  my  dear  Theodore,  I  am  dying.  If 
I  die  without  seeing  you  again,"  he  added,  sinking  his 
voice  and  speaking  in  the  ear  of  his  minister  of  foreign 
affairs,  "  remember  to  strike  a  great  blow  by  the  hand 
of  some  one  of  our  martyrs." 

"  Another  Minard  to  be  killed?  " 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  2G7 

"  Something  better  than  a  mere  lawyer." 

«'Aking?" 

''  Still  better !  —  a  man  wlio  wants  to  be  a  king." 

"  Tlie  Due  de  Guise  1 "  exclaimed  Theodore,  with  an 
involuntar}'  gesture.  • 

*'  Well?"  cried  Calvin,  who  thought  he  saw  disap- 
proval or  resistance  in  the  gesture,  and  did  not  see  at 
the  same  moment  the  entrance  of  Chaudieu.  ''  Have 
we  not  the  right  to  strike  as  we  are  struck?  —  yes,  to 
strike  in  silence  and  in  darkness.  May  we  not  return 
them  wound  for  wound,  and  death  for  death?  Would 
tlie  Catholics  hesitate  to  lay  traps  for  us  and  mas- 
sacre us?  Assuredly  not.  Let  us  burn  their  churches  ! 
Forward,  my  children !  And  if  you  have  devoted 
3'ouths  —  " 

"  I  have,"  said  Chaudieu. 

"  Use  them  as  engines  of  war!  our  cause  justifies 
all  means.  Le  Balafre,  that  terrible  soldier,  is,  like  me, 
more  than  a  man  ;  he  is  a  dynasty,  just  as  I  am  a 
system.  He  is  able  to  annihilate  usj  therefore,  I  saj', 
Death  to  the  Guise  !  " 

''  I  would  rather  have  a  peaceful  victor}',  won  by  time 
and  reason,"  said  de  Beze. 

"  Time  !  "  exclaimed  Calvin,  dashing  his  chair  to  the 
ground,  "  reason  !  Are  3*ou  mad?  Can  reason  achieve 
conquests?  You  know  nothing  of  men,  you  who  deal 
with  them,  idiot!  The  thing  that  injures  my  doctrine, 
you  triple  fool !  is  the  reason  that  is  in  it.  B3'  the  light- 
ning of  Saul,  b}'  the  sword  of  Vengeance,  thou  pumpkin- 
head,  do  3'ou  not  see  the  vigor  given  to  m}-  Reform  by 
the  massacre  at  Amboise?  Ideas  never  grow  till  they 
are  watered  with  blood.     The  slaying  of  the  Due  de 


I 


268  Catherine  de*  Medici, 

Guise  will  lead  to  a  horrible  persecution,  and  I  pra^^  for 
it  with  all  1113'  might.  Onr  reverses  are  preferable  to 
success.  The  Reformation  has  an  object  to  gain  in  be- 
ing attacked  ;  do  you  hear  me,  dolt?  It  cannot  hurt  us 
to  be  defeated,  whereas  Catholicism  is  at  an  end  if  we 
should  win  but  a  single  battle.  Ha  !  what  are  my  lieu- 
tenants?—  rags,  wet  rags  instead  of  men  !  white-haired 
cravens !  baptized  apes !  O  God,  grant  me  ten  years 
more  of  life  !  If  I  die  too  soon  the  cause  of  true  reli- 
gion is  lost  in  the  hands  of  such  boobies  !  You  are  as 
great  a  fool  as  Antoine  de  Navarre  !  Out  of  my  sight ! 
Leave  me  ;  I  want  a  better  negotiator  than  you  !  You 
are  an  ass,  a  popinjay,  a  poet !  Go  make  your  elegies 
and  your  acrostics,  3'ou  trifler !     Hence  !  " 

The  pains  of  his  body  were  absolutely  overcome  by 
the  fire  of  his  anger ;  even  the  gout  subsided  under  this 
horrible  excitement  of  his  mind.  Calvin's  face  flushed 
purple,  like  the  sky  before  a  storm.  His  vast  brow 
shone.  His  e3'es  flamed.  He  was  no  longer  himself. 
He  gave  wa}^  utterly  to  the  species  of  epileptic  motion, 
full  of  passion,  which  was  common  with  him.  But  in 
the  \QYy  midst  of  it  he  was  struck  b}-  the  attitude  of  the 
two  witnesses ;  then  as  he  caught  the  w^ords  of  Cliau- 
dieu  saying  to  de  Beze,  "  The  Burning  Bush  !  '*  he  sat 
down,  was  silent,  and  covered  his  face  with  his  two 
hands,  the  knotted  veins  of  which  were  throbbing  in 
spite  of  their  coarse  texture. 

Some  minutes  later,  still  shaken  by  this  storm  raised 
within  him  b}'  the  continence  of  his  life,  he  said  in  a 
voice  of  emotion  :  — 

"  My  sins,  which  are  man}^,  cost  me  less  trouble 
to   subdue,  than   m^'  impatience.     Oh,   savage    beast ! 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  269 

shall  I   never  vanquish  you?"    he  cried,  beating   his 
■^  breast. 

IB  ''  My  dear  master,"  said  de  Beze,  in  a  tender  voice, 
taking  Calvin's  hand  and  kissing  it,  "Jupiter  thunders, 
but  he  knows  how  to  smile." 

Calvin  looked  at  his  disciple  with  a  softened  eye  and 
said :  — 

'*  Understand  me,  m}*  friends." 

*'  I  understand  that  the  pastors  of  peoples  bear  great 
burdens,"  replied  Theodore.  ''  You  have  a  world  upon 
your  shoulders." 
1^  ''I  have  three  martvrs,"  said  Chaudieu,  whom 
the  master's  outburst  had  rendered  thoughtful,  ''  on 
whom  we  can  YQ\y.  Stuart,  who  killed  Minard,  is  at 
liberty  —  " 

"You  are  mistaken,"  said  Calvin,  gentl}',  smiling 
after  the  manner  of  great  men  who  bring  fair  weather 
into  their  faces  as  though  they  were  ashamed  of  the 
previous  storm.  ''  I  know  human  nature  ;  a  man  may 
kill  one  president,  but  not  two." 

"  Is  it  absolutely  necessary'?  "  asked  de  Beze. 

"  Again  !  "  exclaimed  Calvin,  his  nostrils  swelling. 
'^  Come,  leave  me,  3'ou  will  drive  me  to  fury.  Take  my 
decision  to  the  queen.  You,  Chaudieu,  go  3-our  wa}', 
and  hold  your  flock  together  in  Paris.  God  guide  you  ! 
Dinah,  light  my  friends  to  the  door." 

''  Will  you  not  permit  me  to  embrace  3'ou  ?  "  said  The- 
odore, much  moved.  "  Who  knows  what  may  happen 
to  us  on  the  morrow?  We  ma}^  be  seized  in  spite  of 
our  safe-conduct." 

''  And  yet  you  want  to  spare  them  !  "  cried  Calvin, 
embracing  de  B^ze.    Then  he  took  Chaudieu's  hand  and 


■ 


270  Catherine  de^  Medici, 

said:  "Above  all,  no  Huguenots,  no  Reformers,  but 
Calvinists !  Use  no  term  but  Calvinism.  Alas!  this  is 
not  ambition,  for  I  am  dying,  —  but  it  is  necessary-  to 
destroy'  the  whole  of  Luther,  even  to  the  name  of 
Lutheran  and  Lutheranism." 

''Ah!  man  divine,"  cried  Chaudieu,  ''3'ou  well  de- 
serve such  honors." 

"  Maintain  the  uniformity  of  the  doctrine  ;  let  no  one 
henceforth  change  or  remaik  it.  We  are  lost  if  new 
sects  issue  from  our  bosom." 

We  will  here  anticipate  the  events  on  which  this 
Study  is  based,  and  close  the  histor}'  of  Theodore  de 
Beze,  who  went  to  Paris  with  Chaudieu.  It  is  to  be 
remarked  that  Poltrot,  who  fired  at  the  Due  de  Guise 
fifteen  months  later,  confessed  under  torture  that  he 
bad  been  urged  to  the  crime  by  Theodore  de  Beze  ; 
though  he  retracted  that  avowal  during  subsequent  tor- 
tures ;  so  that  Bossuet,  after  weighing  all  historical 
considerations,  felt  obliged  to  acquit  Beze  of  instigat- 
ing the  crime.  Since  Bossuet's  time,  however,  an  ap- 
parently futile  dissertation,  apropos  of  a  celebrated 
song,  has  led  a  compiler  of  the  eighteenth  century  to 
prove  that  the  verses  on  the  death  of  the  Due  de  Guise, 
sung  b}'  the  Huguenots  from  one  end  of  France  to 
the  other,  was  the  work  of  Theodore  de  Beze ;  and  it 
is  also  proved  that  the  famous  song  on  the  burial  of 
Marlborough  was  a  plagiarism  on  it.^ 

1  One  of  the  most  remarkable  instances  of  the  transmission  of 
songs  is  that  of  Marlborough.  Written  in  the  first  instance  by  a 
Huguenot  on  the  death  of  the  Due  de  Guise  in  1563,  it  was  pre- 
served in  the  French  army,  and  appears  to  have  been  sung  with 
variations,  suppressions,   and   additions  at  the  death  of  all   gen- 


Catherine  d^  Medici. 


271 


erals  of  iniportauce.  When  the  intestine  wars  were  over  the  song 
followed  the  soldiers  into  civil  life.  It  was  never  forgotten  (though 
the  habit  of  singing  it  may  have  lessened),  and  in  1781,  sixty  years 
after  the  death  of  Marlborough,  the  wet-nurse  of  the  Dauphin  was 
heard  to  sing  it  as  she  suckled  her  nursling.  When  and  why  the 
name  of  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  was  substituted  for  that  of  the 
Due  de  Guise  lias  never  been  ascertained.  See  "  Chausons  Popu- 
laires,"  par  Charles  Nisard  ;  Paris,  Deutu,  1867.  —  Tb. 


272  Catherine  de'  Medici. 


XIV. 

CATHERINE   IN   POWER. 

The  day  on  which  Theodore  de  Beze  and  Chaudieu 
arrived  in  Paris,  the  court  returned  from  Rheims,  where 
Charles  IX.  was  crowned.  This  ceremony,  which  Cath- 
erine made  magnificent  with  splendid  fetes,  enabled  her 
to  gather  about  her  the  leaders  of  the  various  parties. 
Having  studied  all  interests  and  all  factions,  she  found 
herself  with  two  alternatives  from  which  to  choose ; 
either  to  rally  them  all  to  the  throne,  or  to  pit  them 
one  against  another.  The  Connetable  de  Montmo- 
renc}',  supremely  Catholic,  whose  nephew,  the  Prince  de 
Conde,  was  leader  of  the  Reformers,  and  whose  sons 
were  inclined  to  the  new  religion,  blamed  the  alliance 
of  the  queen-mother  with  the  Reformation.  The  Guises, 
on  their  side,  were  endeavoring  to  gain  over  Antoine 
de  Bourbon,  king  of  Navarre,  a  weak  prince  ;  a  manoeu- 
vre which  his  wife,  Jeanne  d'Albret,  instructed  by  de 
Beze,  allowed  to  succeed.  The  difficulties  were  plain 
to  Catherine,  whose  dawning  power  needed  a  period  of 
tranquillity.  She  therefore  impatiently  awaited  Cal- 
vin's reply  to  the  message  which  the  Prince  de  Conde, 
the  king  of  Navarre,  Colign}^,  d'Andelot,  and  the  Cardi- 
nal de  Chatillon  had  seat  him  through  de  Beze  and 
Chaudieu.  Meantime,  however,  she  w^as  faithful  to 
her  promises  as  to  the  Prince  de  Conde.     The  chan- 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  273 

cellor  put  an  end  to  the  proceedings  in  which  Chris- 
tophe  was  involved  by  referring  the  affair  to  the 
Parliament  of  Paris,  which  at  once  set  aside  the  judg- 
ment of  the  committee,  declaring  it  without  power  to 
try  a  prince  of  the  blood.  The  Parliament  then  reop- 
ened the  trial,  at  the  request  of  the  Guises  and  the 
queen-mother.  Lasagne's  papers  had  already  been 
given  to  Catherine,  who  burned  them.  The  giving  up 
of  these  papers  was  a  first  pledge,  uselessly  made  by 
the  Guises  to  the  queen-mother.  The  Parliament,  no 
longer  able  to  take  cognizance  of  those  decisive  proofs, 
reinstated  the  prince  in  all  his  rights,  property,  and 
honors.  Christophe,  released  during  the  tumult  at 
Orleans  on  the  death  of  the  king,  was  acquitted  in  the 
first  instance,  and  appointed,  in  compensation  for  his 
sufferings,  solicitor  to  the  Parliament,  at  the  request  of 
his  godfather  Monsieur  de  Thou. 

The  Triumvirate,  that  coming  coalition  of  self-inter- 
ests threatened  by  Catherine's  first  acts,  was  now  form- 
ing itself  under  her  very  eyes.  Just  as  in  chemistry 
antagonistic  substances  separate  at  the  first  shock 
which  jars  their  enforced  union,  so  in  politics  the  alU- 
ance  of  opposing  interests  never  lasts.  Catherine  thor- 
oughl}'  understood  that  sooner  or  later  she  should 
return  to  the  Guises  and  combine  with  them  and  the 
Connetable  to  do  battle  against  the  Huguenots.  The 
proposed  "  colloquy  "  which  tempted  the  vanity  of  the 
orators  of  all  parties,  and  offered  an  imposing  specta- 
cle to  succeed  that  of  the  coronation  and  enliven  the 
bloody  ground  of  a  religious  war  which,  in  point  of  fact, 
had  alroadv  beijun,  was  as  futile  in  the  eves  of  the  Due 
de   Guise   as   in   those   of  Catherine.     The   Cathohcs 

18 


274       ^  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

would,  in  one  sense  be  worsted  ;  for  the  Huguenots, 
under  pretext  of  conferring,  would  be  able  to  proclaim 
their  doctrine,  with  the  sanction  of  the  king  and  his 
mother,  to  the  ears  of  all  France.  The  Cardinal  de 
Lorraine,  flattered  by  Catherine  into  the  idea  of  destro}'- 
ing  the  heresy  by  the  eloquence  of  the  Church,  per- 
suaded his  brother  to  consent ;  and  thus  the  queen 
obtained  what  was  all-essential  to  her,  six  months  of 
peace. 

A  slight  event,  occurring  at  this  time,  came  near 
compromising  the  power  which  Catherine  had  so  pain- 
fully built  up.  The  following  scene,  preserved  in  his- 
tor}',  took  place,  on  the  very  day  the  envoj's  returned 
from  Geneva,  in  the  hotel  de  Colign}-  near  the  Louvre. 
At  his  coronation,  Charles  IX.,  who  was  greatl}' attached 
to  his  tutor  Amyot,  appointed  him  grand-almoner  of 
France.  This  affection  was  shared  b}-  his  brother  the 
Due  d'Anjou,  afterwards  Henri  IIL,  another  of  Am3'ot's 
pupils.  Catherine  heard  the  news  of  this  appointment 
from  the  two  Gondis  during  the  journey  from  Rheims  to 
Paris.  She  had  counted  on  that  office  in  the  gift  of  the 
Crown  to  gain  a  supporter  in  the  Church  with  whom 
to  oppose  the  Cardinal  de  Lorraine.  Her  choice  had 
fallen  on  the  Cardinal  de  Tournon,  in  whom  she  expected 
to  find,  as  in  I'Hopital,  another  crutch  —  the  word  is  her 
own.  As  soon  as  she  reached  the  Louvre  she  sent  for 
the  tutor,  and  her  anger  was  such,  on  seeing  the  disaster 
to  her  policy  caused  by  the  ambition  of  this  son  of  a 
shoemaker,  that  she  was  betrayed  into  using  the  follow- 
ing extraordinary  language,  which  several  memoirs  of 
the  dav  have  handed  down  to  us  :  — 

"  What !  "  she  cried,  ''  am  I,  who  compel  the  Guises, 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  275 

the  Colignj's,  the  Connetables,  the  house  of  Kavarre, 
the  Prince  de  Conde,  to  serve  1113'  ends,  am  I  to  be  op- 
posed by  a  priesthng  like  you  who  are  not  satisfied  to 
be  bishop  of  Auxerre?" 

Amyot  excused  himself.  He  assured  the  queen  that 
he  had  asked  nothing ;  the  king  of  his  own  will  had 
given  him  the  office  of  which  he,  the  son  of  a  poor 
tailor,  felt  himself  quite  unworthy. 
K  ''  Be  assured,  niaitre^''  replied  Catherine  (that  being 
the  name  which  the  two  kings,  Charles  IX.  and  Henri 
III.,  gave  to  the  great  writer)  "  that  3^ou  will  not  stand 
on  3'our  feet  twenty- four  hours  hence,  unless  you  make 
your  pupil  change  his  mind." 
IK  Between  the  death  thus  threatened  and  the  resigna- 
tion of  the  highest  ecclesiastical  office  in  the  gift  of  the 
crown,  the  son  of  the  shoemaker,  who  had  lately  become 
extremel}'  eager  after  honors,  and  ma}^  even  have  cov- 
eted a  cardinal's  hat,  thought  it  prudent  to  temporize. 
He  left  the  court  and  hid  himself  in  the  abbey  of  Saint- 
Germain.  When  Charles  IX.  did  not  see  him  at  his 
first  dinner,  he  asked  where  he  was.  Some  Guisard 
doubtless  told  him  of  what  had  occurred  between 
Amyot  and  the  queen-mother. 

^'  Has  he  been  forced  to  disappear  because  I  made 
him  grand-almoner?"  cried  the  king. 

He  thereupon  rushed  to  his  mother  in  the  violent 
wrath  of  angry  children  when  their  caprices  are  opposed. 

"  Madame,"  he  said  on  entering,  ''  did  I  not  kindly 
sign  the  letter  you  asked  me  to  send  to  Parliament,  by 
means  of  which  jou  govern  my  kingdom?  Did  you 
not  promise  that  if  I  did  so  my  will  should  be  3'ours? 
And  here,  the  first  favor  that  I  wish  to  bestow  excites 


276  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

your  jealousy  I  The  chancellor  talks  of  declaring  my 
majority  at  fourteen,  three  years  from  now,  and  you 
wish  to  treat  me  as  a  child.  By  God,  I  will  be  king, 
and  a  king  as  my  father  and  my  grandfather  were 
kings  !  " 

The  tone  and  manner  in  which  these  words  were  said 
gave  Catherine  a  revelation  of  her  son's  true  character ; 
it  was  like  a  blow  in  the  breast. 

"  He  speaks  to  me  thus,  he  whom  I  made  a  king !  " 
she  thought.  '^  Monsieur,"  she  said  aloud,  ''  the  office 
of  a  king,  in  times  like  these,  is  a  very  difficult  one ; 
you  do  not  yet  know  the  shrewd  men  with  whom  you 
have  to  deal.  You  will  never  have  a  safer  and  more 
sincere  friend  than  your  mother,  or  better  servants  than 
those  who  have  been  so  long  attached  to  her  person, 
without  whose  services  3'ou  might  perhaps  not  even 
exist  to-day.  Tlie  Guises  want  both  your  life  and  3'our 
throne,  be  sure  of  that.  If  the}^  could  sew  me  into  a 
sack  and  fling  me  into  the  river,"  she  said,  pointing  to 
the  Seine,  ''  it  would  be  done  to-night.  They  know 
that  I  am  a  lioness  defending  her  young,  and  that  I 
alone  prevent  their  daring  hands  from  seizing  your 
crown.  To  whom  —  to  whose  part}'  does  your  tutor 
belong?  Who  are  his  allies?  What  authority  has  he? 
What  services  can  he  do  you  ?  What  weight  do  his  words 
carry  ?  Instead  of  finding  a  prop  to  sustain  your  power, 
you  have  cut  the  ground  from  under  it.  The  Cardinal 
de  Lorraine  is  a  living  threat  to  you ;  he  plays  the 
king ;  he  keeps  his  hat  on  his  head  before  the  princes 
of  the  blood ;  it  was  urgent!}'  necessar}'  to  invest  an- 
other cardinal  with  powers  greater  than  his  own.  But 
what  have  you  done?     Is  Amyot,  that  shoemaker,  fit 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  277 


onl}'  to  tie  the  ribbons  of  his  shoes,  is  he  capable  of  mak- 
\\w  head  ao:ainst  the  Guise  ambition?  However,  you 
love  Amyot,  you  have  appointed  him  ;  your  will  must  now 
be  done,  monsieur.  But  before  you  make  such  gifts 
again,  I  pra}^  you  to  consult  me  in  affectionate  good 
faith.  Listen  to  reasons  of  state  ;  and  your  own  good 
sense  as  a  child  may  perhaps  agree  with  ray  old  expe- 
rience, when  you  really  understand  the  difficulties  that 
lie  before  3'ou." 

''Then  I  can  have  my  master  back  again?"  cried 
the  king,  not  listening  to  his  mother's  words,  which  he 
considered  to  be  mere  reproaches. 

"  Yes,  you  shall  have  him,"  she  replied.  "  But  it  is 
not  he,  nor  that  brutal  Cypierre  who  will  teach  you 
how  to  reign." 

"It  is  for  you  to  do  so,  my  dear  mother,"  said  the 
boy,  mollified  b}^  his  victory  and  relaxing  the  surly  and 
threatening  look  stamped  bj'  nature  on  his  countenance. 

Catherine  sent  Gondi  to  recall  the  new  grand-almoner. 
When  the  Italian  discovered  the  place  of  Am3ot's  re- 
treat, and  the  bishop  heard  that  the  courtier  was  sent 
by  the  queen,  he  was  seized  with  terror  and  refused  to 
leave  the  abbey.  In  this  extremity  Catherine  was 
obliged  to  write  to  him  herself,  in  such  terms  that 
he  returned  to  Paris  and  received  from  her  own  lips 
the  assurance  of  her  protection,  —  on  condition,  how- 
ever, that  he  would  blindl}'  promote  her  wishes  with 
Charles  IX. 

This  little  domestic  tempest  over,  the  queen,  now  re- 
established in  the  Louvre  after  an  absence  of  more 
than  a  year,  held  council  with  her  closest  friends  as  to 
the  proper  conduct  to  pursue  with  the  3'oung  king, 
whom  Cypierre  had  complimented  on  his  firmness. 


278  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

"What  is  best  to  be  done?"  she  said  to  the  two 
Gondis,  Riiggiero,  Birago,  and  Chiverni  who  had  lately 
become  governor  and  chancellor  to  the  Due  d'Anjou. 

"Before  all  else,"  replied  Birago,  "get  rid  of 
Cvpierre.  He  is  not  a  courtier ;  he  will  never  accom- 
modate himself  to  your  ideas,  and  will  think  he  does 
his  duty  in  thwarting  3011." 

"  Whom  can  I  trust?"  cried  the  queen. 

"  One  of  us,"  said  Birago. 

"On  m}'  honor!"  exclaimed  Gondi,  "I'll  promise 
3'ou  to  make  the  king  as  docile  as  the  king  of  Navarre." 

"  You  allowed  the  late  king  to  perish  to  save  your 
other  children/'  said  Albert  de  Gondi.  "Do,  then,  as 
the  great  signors  of  Constantinople  do,  —  divert  the 
anger  and  amuse  the  caprices  of  the  present  king.  He 
loves  art  and  poetrj'  and  hunting,  also  a  little  girl  he 
saw  at  Orleans  ;  there  's  occupation  enough  for  him." 

"Would  3'ou  really  be  the  king's  governor?"  said 
Catherine  to  the  ablest  of  the  Gondis. 

"Yes,  if  3'ou  will  give  me  the  necessary  authority; 
you  may  even  be  obliged  to  make  me  marshal  of 
France  and.  a  duke.  Cypierre  is  altogether  two  small 
a  man  to  hold  the  office.  In  future,  the  governor  of  a 
king  of  France  should  be  of  some  great  dignity,  like 
that  of  duke  and  marshal." 

"  He  is  right,"  said  Birago. 

"Poet  and  huntsman,"  said  Catherine  in  a  dreamy 
tone. 

"  We  will  hunt  and  make  love  !  "  cried  Gondi. 

"Moreover,"  remarked  Chiverni,  "you  are  sure  of 
Am3'ot,  who  will  always  fear  poison  in  case  of  diso- 
bedience ;  so  that  3'ou  and  he  and  Gondi  can  hold  the 
king  in  leading-strings." 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  279 

"  Amj'ot  has  deeply  offended  nie,"  said  Catherine. 

"He  does  not  know  what  he  owes  to  you;  if  he 
did  know,  you  would  be  in  danger,"  replied  Birago, 
gravely,  emphasizing  his  words. 

*'  Then,  it  is  agreed,''  exclaimed  Catheiine,  on  whom 
Birago's  reply  made  a  powerful  impression,  "  that  you, 
Gondi,  are  to  be  the  king's  governor.  My  son  must 
consent  to  do  for  one  of  my  friends  a  favor  equal  to  the 
one  I  have  just  permitted  for  his  knave  of  a  bishop. 
That  fool  has  lost  the  hat ;  for  never,  as  long  as  I 
live,  will  I  consent  that  the  pope  shall  give  it  to  him ! 
How  strong  we  might  have  been  with  Cardinal  de 
Tournon !  What  a  trio  with  Tournon  for  grand- 
almoner,  and  THopital,  and  de  Thou !  As  for  the 
burghers  of  Paris,  I  intend  to  make  my  son  cajole 
them  ;   we  will  get  a  support  there." 

Accordingl}',  Albert  de  Gondi  became  a  marshal  of 
France  and  was  created  Due  de  Retz  and  governor  of 
the  king  a  few  days  later. 

At  the  moment  when  this  little  private  council  ended, 
Cardinal  de  Tournon  announced  to  the  queen  the  arrival 
of  the  emissaries  sent  to  Calvin.  Admiral  Coligny 
accompanied  the  party  in  order  that  his  presence  might 
ensure  them  due  respect  at  the  Louvre.  The  queen 
gathered  the  formidable  phalanx  of  her  maids  of  honor 
about  her,  and  passed  into  the  reception  hall,  built  b}^ 
her  husband,  which  no  longer  exists  in  the  Louvre  of 
to-da3\ 

At  the  period  of  which  we  write  the  staircase  of  the 
Louvre  occupied  the  clock  tower.  Catherine's  apart- 
ments were  in  the  old  buildings  which  still  exist  in  the 
court  of  the  Musse.     The  present  staircase  of  the  mu- 


280  Catherine  de'  Afedici. 

seiim  was  built  in  what  was  formerly  the  salle  des  bal- 
lets. The  ballet  of  those  days  was  a  sort  of  dramatic 
entertainment  performed  by  the  whole  court. 

Revolutionar}'  passions  gave  rise  to  a  most  laugh- 
able error  about  Charles  IX.,  in  connection  with  the 
Louvre.  During  the  Revolution  hostile  opinions  as  to 
this  king,  whose  real  character  was  masked,  made  a 
monster  of  him.  Joseph  Chenier's  tragedy  was  writ- 
ten under  the  influence  of  certain  words  scratched  on 
the  window  of  the  projecting  wing  of  the  Louvre,  look- 
ing toward  the  quay.  The  words  were  as  follows : 
"It  was  from  this  window  that  Charles  IX.,  of  exe- 
crable memor}*,  fired  upon  Fiench  citizens."  It  is 
well  to  inform  future  historians  and  all  sensible  persons 
that  this  portion  of  the  Louvre  —  called  to-da}*  the  old 
Louvre  —  which  projects  upon  the  quay  and  is  con- 
nected with  the  Louvre  by  the  room  called  the  Apollo 
gallery  (while  the  great  halls  of  the  Museum  connect 
the  Louvre  with  the  Tuileries)  did  not  exist  in  the  time 
of  Charles  IX.  The  greater  part  of  the  space  where 
the  frontage  on  the  qua\'  now  stands,  and  where  the 
Garden  of  the  Infanta  is  laid  out,- was  then  occupied 
by  the  hotel  de  Bourbon,  which  belonged  to  and  was 
the  residence  of  the  house  of  Navarre.  It  was  abso- 
lutely impossible,  therefore,  for  Charles  IX.  to  fire  from 
the  Louvre  of  Henry  II.  upon  a  boat  full  of  Huguenots 
crossing  the  river,  although  at  the  present  time  the 
Seine  can  be  seen  from  its  windows.  Even  if  learned 
men  and  libraries  did  not  possess  maps  of  the  Louvre 
made  in  the  time  of  Charles  IX.,  on  which  its  then  posi- 
tion is  clearly  indicated,  the  building  itself  refutes  the 
error.     All  the  kings  who  co-operated  in  the  work  of 


Catherine  rfe*  Medici,  281 

erecting  this  enormous  mass  of  buildings  never  failed 
to  put  tlieir  initials  or  some  special  monogram  on  the 
parts  they  had  severally  built.  Now  the  part  we  speak 
of,  the  venerable  and  now  blackened  wing  of  the  Louvre, 
projecting  on  the  qua}*  and  overlooking  the  garden  of 
the  Infanta,  bears  the  monograms  of  Henri  III.  and 
Henri  IV.,  which  are  totally  different  from  that  of  Henri 
II.,  who  invariably  joined  his  H  to  the  two  C*8  of  Cath- 
erine, forming  a  D,  —  which,  by  the  bye,  has  con- 
stantly deceived  superficial  persons  into  fancying  that 
the  king  put  the  initial  of  his  mistress,  Diane,  on  great 
public  buildings.  Henri  IV.  united  the  Louvre  with 
his  own  hotel  de  Bourbon,  its  garden  and  dependencies. 
He  was  the  first  to  think  of  connecting  Catherine  de' 
Medici's  palace  of  theTuilerics  with  the  Louvre  by  his  un- 
finished galleries,  the  precious  sculptures  of  which  have 
been  so  cruelly  neglected.  Even  if  the  map  of  Paris, 
and  the  monograms  of  Henri  III.  and  Henri  IV.  did 
not  exist,  the  difference  of  architecture  is  refutatioa 
enough  to  the  cjilumny.  The  vermiculated  stone  cop- 
ings of  the  hotel  de  la  Force  mark  the  transition  be- 
tween what  is  called  the  architecture  of  the  Renaissance 
and  that  of  Henri  HI.,  Henri  IV.,  and  Louis  XIII. 
This  archfleological  digression  (continuing  the  sketches 
of  old  Paris  with  which  we  began  this  history)  enables 
us  to  picture  to  our  minds  the  then  appearance  of  this 
other  corner  of  the  ohl  cit\%  of  which  nothing  now  re- 
mains but  Henri  IV.*s  addition  to  the  Louvre,  with  its 
admirable  bas-reliefs,  now  being  rapidiv  annihilated. 

When  the  court  heard  that  the  queen  was  about 
to  give  an  audience  to  Theodore  de  B^ze  and  Chau- 
dieu,  presented  by  Admiral  Coligny,  all  the  courtiers 


282  Catheriiie  de'  Medici, 

who  had  the  right  of  entrance  to  the  reception  hall, 
hastened  thither  to  witness  the  interview.  It  was  about 
six  o'clock  in  the  evening ;  Colign}'  had  just  supped, 
and  was  using  a  toothpick  as  he  came  up  the  staircase 
of  the  Louvre  between  the  two  Reformers.  The  prac- 
tice of  using  a  toothpick  was  so  inveterate  a  habit  with 
the  admiral  that  he  was  seen  to  do  it  on  the  battle-field 
while  planning  a  retreat.  "  Distrust  the  admiral's  tooth- 
pick, the  iVo  of  the  Connetable,  and  Catherine's  les," 
was  a  court  proverb  of  that  day.  After  the  Saint- 
Bartholomew  the  populace  made  a  horrible  jest  on^  the 
bod}'  of  Coligny,  which  hung  for  three  days  at  Mont- 
faucon,  b}'  putting  a  grotesque  toothpick  into  his  mouth. 
History  has  recorded  this  atrocious  levit}^  So  pett}-  an 
act  done  in  the  midst  of  that  great  catastrophe  pictures 
the  Parisian  populace,  which  deserves  tlie  sarcastic  jibe 
of  Boileau  :  ''  Frenchmen,  born  mali?i,  created  the  guil- 
lotine." The  Parisian  of  all  time  cracks  jokes  and 
makes  lampoons  before,  during,  and  after  the  most 
horrible  revolutions. 

Theodore  de  Beze  wore  the  dress  of  a  courtier,  black 
silk  stockings,  low  shoes  with  straps  across  the  instep, 
tight  breeches,  a  black  silk  doublet  with  slashed  sleeves, 
and  a  small  black  velvet  mantle,  over  which  lay  an  ele- 
gant white  fluted  ruff.  His  beard  was  trimmed  to  a 
moustache  and  virgule  (now  called  imperial)  and  he 
carried  a  sword  at  his  side  and  a  cane  in  his  hand. 
Whosoever  knows  the  galleries  of  Versailles  or  the  col- 
lections of  Odieuvre,  knows  also  his  round,  almost  jovial 
face  and  lively  eyes,  surmounted  hy  the  broad  forehead 
which  characterized  the  writers  and  poets  of  that  day. 
De  Beze  had,  what  served  him  admirably,  an  agreeable 


Catherine  de'  McdicL  283 

air  and  manner.  In  this  he  was  a  great  contrast  to 
Cohtrnv,  of*  austere  countenance,  and  to  the  sour,  biUous 
Chaudieu,  wlio  chose  to  wear  on  this  occasion  the  robe 
and  bands  of  a  Calvinist  minister. 

The  scenes  that,happeu  in  our  day  in  the  Chamber  of 
Deputies,  and  which,  no  doubt,  happened  in  the  Conven- 
tion, will  give  an  idea  of  how,  at  this  court,  at  this 
epoch,  these  men,  who  six  months  later  were  to  fight  to 
the  deatji  xw  a  war  without  quarter,  could  meet  and  talk 
to  each  other  with  courtesy  and  even  laughter.  Bir- 
ago,  who  was  coldly  to  advise  the  Saint-Bartholomew, 
and  Cardinal  de  Lorraine,  who  charged  his  servant 
Besme  "  not  to  miss  the  admiral,"  now  advanced  to 
meet  Colign}' ;  Birago  saying,  with  a  smile ;  — 

*'  Well,  my  dear  admiral,  so  3*011  have  really  taken 
upon  yourself  to  present  these  gentlemen  from  Geneva?" 

*^  Perhaps  you  will  call  it  a  crime  in  me,"  replied  the 
admnal,  jesting,  ^'  whereas  if  you  had  done  it  yourself 
you  would  make  a  merit  of  it." 

"They  say  that  the  Sieur  Calvin  is  very  ill,"  re- 
marked the  Cardinal  de  Lorraine  to  Theodore  de  Beze. 
''  1  hope  no  one  suspects  us  of  giving  him  his  broth." 

"Ah!  monseigneur ;  it  would  be  too  great  a  risk," 
replied  de  Beze,  maliciously. 

The  Due  de  Guise,  who  was  watching  Chaudieu, 
looked  fixedly  at  his  brother  and  at  Birago,  who  were 
both  taken  aback  by  de  Bezels  answer. 

*'  Good  God  !  "  remarked  the  cardinal,  ''  heretics  are 
not  diplomatic !  " 

To  avoid  embarrassment,  the  queen,  who  was  an- 
nounced at  this  moment,  had  arranged  to  remain  stand- 
ing during  the  audience.     She  began  by  speaking  to 


284  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

the  Connetable,  who  had  previously  remonstrated  with 
her  vehementlv  on  the  scandal  of  receivino;  messeno;ers 
from  Calvin. 

"  You  see,  m}'  dear  Connetable,"  she  said,  '^  that  I 
receive  them  without  ceremony." 

^*  Madame,"  said  the  admiral,  approaching  the  queen, 
^^  these  are  two  teachers  of  the  new  religion,  who  have 
come  to  an  understanding  with  Calvin,  and  who  have 
his  instructions  as  to  a  conference  in  which  the  churches 
of  France  may  be  able  to  settle  their  differences." 

*'  This  is  Monsieur  de  Beze,  to  whom  m}'  wife  is 
much  attached,"  said  the  king  of  Navarre,  coming  for- 
ward and  takinof  de  Beze  bv  the  hand. 

'*  And  this  is  Chaudieu,"  said  the  Prince  de  Conde. 
^'  M(/  frie? id  the  Due  de  Guise  knows  the  soldier,"  he 
added,  looking  at  Le  Balafre, ''  perhaps  he  will  now  like 
to  know  the  minister." 

This  gasconade  made  the  whole  court  laugh,  even 
Catherine. 

"Faith!"  replied  the  Due  de  Guise,  "I  am  en- 
chanted to  see  a  gars  who  knows  so  well  how  to  choose 
his  men  and  to  emploj'  them  in  their  right  sphere.  One 
of  your  agents,"  he  said  to  Chaudieu,  "  actually  en- 
dured the  extraordinary  question  without  dying  and 
without  confessing  a  single  thing.  I  call  myself  brave  ; 
but  I  don't  know  that  I  could  have  endured  it  as  he 
did." 

''Hum!"  muttered  Ambroise,  "3'ou  did  not  say 
a  word  when  I  pulled  the  javelin  out  of  your  face  at 
Calais." 

Catherine,  standing  at  the  centre  of  a  semicircle  of 
the  courtiers  and  maids  of  honor,  kept  silence.     She 


Catlierine  de'  Medici.  285 

was  observing  the  two  Reformers,  trying  to  penetrate 
their  minds  as,  with  the  shrewd,  intelligent  glance  of  her 
black  eyes,  she  studied  them. 

"  One  seems  to  be  the  scabbard,  the  other  the  blade," 
whispered  Albert  de  Gondi  in  her  ear. 

"'  Well,  gentlemen,"  said  Catherine  at  last,  unable  to 
restrain  a  smile,  ^'  has  your  master  given  3'ou  permis- 
sion to  unite  in  a  public  conference,  at  which  you  will 
be  converted  by  the  arguments  of  the  Fathers  of  the 
Church  who  are  the  glory  of  our  State?  " 

"  We  have  no  master  but  the  Lord,"  said  Chaudien. 

*'  But  surel}'  you  will  allow  some  little  authority  to 
the  king  of  France?"  said  Catherine,  smiling. 

'*And  much  to  the  queen,"  said  de  Beze,  bowing 
low. 

"You  will  find,"  continued  the  queen,  "that  our 
most  submissive  subjects  are  heretics." 

*'  Ah,  madame  !  "  cried  Colign}',  "  we  will  indeed  en- 
deavor to  make  3'ou  a  noble  and  a  peaceful  kingdom! 
p]urope  has  profited,  alas !  by  our  internal  divisions. 
For  the  last  fifty  years  she  has  had  the  advantage  of 
one-half  of  the  French  people  being  against  the  other 
half." 

"Are  we  here  to  sing  anthems  to  the  glory  of  here- 
tics," said  the  Connetable,  brutalh'. 

"No,  but  to  bring  them  to  repentance,"  whispered 
the  Cardinal  de  Lorraine  in  his  ear;  "  we  want  to  coax 
them  by  a  little  sugar." 

"  Do  you  know  what  I  should  have  done  under  the 
late  king?"  said  the  Connetable,  angril3^  "  I'd  have 
called  in  the  provost  and  hung  those  two  knaves,  then 
and  there,  on  the  gallows  of  the  Louvre." 


286  Catherine  de'  Medici 

''  Well,  gentlemen,  who  are  the  learned  men  whom 
you  have  selected  as  our  opponents?"  inquired  the 
queen,  imposing  silence  on  the  Connetable  by  a  look. 

''  Duplessis-Mornay  and  The'odore  de  Beze  will  speak 
on  our  side,"  replied  Chaudieu. 

••'The  court  will  doubtless  go  to  Saint-Germain,  and 
as  it  would  be  improper  that  this  colloquy  should  take 
place  in  a  royal  residence,  we  will  have  it  in  the  little 
town  of  Poiss}'/'  said  Catherine. 

"  Shall  we  be  safe  there,  madame?"  asked  Chaudieu. 

''Ah!"  replied  the  queen,  with  a  sort  of  naivete, 
**  3'ou  will  surely  know  how  to  take  precautions.  The 
Admiral  will  arrange  all  that  with  my  cousins  the  Guises 
and  de  Montmorency." 

"  The  devil  take  them  !  "  cried  the  Connetable,  ''  I  '11 
have  nothing  to  do  with  it !  '* 

"  How  do  you  contrive  to  give  such  strength  of  char- 
acter to  your  converts?''  said  the  queen,  leading  Chau- 
dieu apart.  "  The  son  of  my  furrier  was  actually 
sublime." 

"  We  have  faith,"  replied  Chaudieu. 

At  this  moment  the  hall  presented  a  scene  of  ani- 
mated groups,  all  discussing  the  question  of  the  proposed 
assembl}',  to  which  the  few  words  said  b\'  the  queen  had 
already  given  the  name  of  the  "  Colloquy  of  Poiss}'." 
Catherine  glanced  at  Chaudieu  and  was  able  to  say  to 
him  unheard :  — 

"Yes,  a  new  faith!" 

"  Ah,  madame,  if  you  were  not  blinded  by  your  alli- 
ance with  the  court  of  Rome,  you  would  see  that  we  are 
returning  to  the  true  doctrines  of  Jesus  Christ,  who, 
recognizing  the  equalit}^  of  souls,  bestows  upon  all  men 
equal  rights  on  earth." 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  287 

"  Do  you  tliink  3'ourself  the  equal  of  Calvin?  "  asked 
the  queen,  shrewdly.  "  No,  no  ;  we  are  equals  only  in 
cliurch.  What !  would  you  unbind  the  tie  of  the  people 
Hlo  the  throne?'*  she  cried.  "Then  you  are  not  onl}'' 
heretics,  you  are  revohitionists,  —  rebels  against  obedi- 
ence to  the  king  as  you  are  against  that  to  the  pope  !  " 
So  saying,  she  left  Chaudieu  abruptly  and  returned  to 
Theodore  de  B^ze.  *'  I  count  on  you,  monsieur,"  she 
said,  ''to  conduct  this  colloquy  in  good  faith.  Take 
all  the  time  3'ou  need." 

"  I  had  supposed,"  said  Chaudieu  to  the  Prince  de 
Conde,  the  King  of  Navarre,  and  Admiral  Coligny,  as 
they  left  the  hall,  ''  that  a  great  State  matter  would 
be  treated  more  seriously." 

"  Oh  !  we  know  very  w^ell  what  3'ou  want,"  exclaimed 
the  Prince  de  Conde,  exchanging  a  sly  look  with  Theo- 
dore de  Beze. 

The  prince  now  left  his  adherents  to  attend  a  rendez- 
vous. This  great  leader  of  a  party  was  also  one  of  the 
most  favored  gallants  of  the  court.  The  two  choice 
beauties  of  that  day  were  even  then  strivinor  with  such 
desperate  eagerness  for  his  affections  that  one  of  them, 
the  Marechale  de  Saint-Andre,  the  wife  of  the  future 
triumvir,  gave  him  her  beautiful  estate  of  Saint-Valerj', 
hoping  to  win  him  away  from  the  Duchesse  de  Guise, 
tlie  wife  of  the  man  who  had  tried  to  take  his  head  on 
the  scaffold.  The  duchess,  not  being  able  to  detach  the 
Due  de  Nemours  from  Mademoiselle  de  Rohan,  fell  in 
love,  €71  attendant^  with  the  leader  of  the  Reformers. 

"What  a  contrast  to  Geneva!"  said  Chaudieu  to 
Thsodore  de  Beze,  as  they  crossed  the  little  bridge  of 
the  Louvre. 


288  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

"  The  people  here  are  certainly  gayer  than  the  Gene- 
vese.  I  don't  see  why  they  should  be  so  treacherous/' 
replied  de  Beze. 

''  To  treachery  oppose  treachery/'  replied  Chaudieu, 
whispering  the  words  in  his  companion's  ear.  ''  I  have 
saints  in  Paris  on  whom  I  can  rel^',  and  I  intend  to 
make  Calvin  a  prophet.  Christophe  Lecamus  shall  de- 
liver us  from  our  most  danorerous  enemv." 

"  The  queen-mother,  for  w^hom  the  poor  devil  endured 
his  torture,  has  already,  with  a  high  hand,  caused  him 
to  be  appointed  soUcitor  to  the  Parliament ;  and 
solicitors  make  better  prosecutors  than  murderers. 
Don't  you  remember  how  Avenelles  betrayed  the  se- 
crets of  our  first  uprising?  " 

"  I  know  Christophe,"  said  Chaudieu,  in  a  positive 
tone,  as  he  turned  to  leave  the  envoy  from  Geneva. 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  289 


XV. 


COMPENSATION. 

A  FEW  days  after  the  reception  of  Calvin's  emissaries 
by  the  queen,  that  is  to  say,  toward  the  close  of  the 
year  (for  the  year  then  began  at  Easter  and  the  present 
calendar  was  not  adopted  until  later  in  the  reign 
of  Charles  IX.),  Christophe  reclined  in  an  eas}'  chair 
beside  the  fire  in  the  large  brown  hall,  dedicated  to 
family  life,  that  overlooked  the  river  in  his  fiither  s 
liouse,  where  the  present  drama  was  begun.  His  feet 
rested  on  a  stool ;  his  mother  and  Babette  Lallier  had 
just  renewed  the  compresses,  saturated  with  a  solution 
brought  by  Ambroise  Pare,  who  was  charged  bj-  Cath- 
erine de'  Medici  to  take  care  of  the  vounor  man.  Once 
restored  to  his  family,  Christophe  became  the  object  of 
the  most  devoted  care.  Babette,  authorized  b}'  her 
father,  came  every  morning  and  only  left  the  Lecamus 
house  at  night.  Christophe,  the  admiration  of  the  ap- 
prentices, gave  rise  throughout  the  quarter  to  various 
tales,  which  invested  him  with  mysterious  poesy.  He 
had  borne  the  worst  torture ;  the  celebrated  Ambroise 
Pare  was  employing  all  his  skill  to  cure  him.  What 
great  deed  had  he  done  to  be  thus  treated?  Neither 
Christophe  nor  his  father  said  a  word  on  the  subject. 
Catherine,  then  all-powerful,  was  concerned  in  their 
silence  as  well  as  the  Prince  de  Conde.     The  constant 


19 


I 


290  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

visits  of  Pare,  now  chief  surgeon  of  both  the  king  and 
the  house  of  Guise,  whom  the  queen-mother  and  the 
Lorrains  allowed  to  treat  a  3'outh  accused  of  heresy, 
strangely-  complicated  an  affair  through  which  no  one 
saw  clearly.  Moreover,  the  rector  of  Saint-Pierre-aux- 
Boeufs  came  several  times  to  visit  the  son  of  his  church- 
warden, and  these  visits  made  the  causes  of  Chris- 
tophe's  present  condition  still  more  unintelligible  to  his 
neighbors. 

The  old  S3'ndic,  who  had  his  plan,  gave  evasive  an- 
swers to  his  brother-furriers,  the  merchants  of  the 
neighborhood,  and  to  all  friends  who  spoke  to  him  of 
his  son:  "Yes,  I  am  very  thankful  to  have  saved 
him."  —  "  AYell,  you  know,  it  wont  do  to  put  your  finger 
between  the  bark  and  the  tree."  —  "  My  son  touched 
fire  and  came  near  burning  up  m}'  house." — "The}' 
took  advantage  of  his  youth  ;  we  burghers  get  nothing 
but  shame  and  evil  by  frequenting  the  grandees."  — 
"  This  affair  decides  me  to  make  a  lawyer  of  Chris- 
tophe  ;  the  practice  of  law  will  teach  him  to  weigh  his 
words  and  his  acts."  —  "The  joung  queen,  who  is  now 
in  Scotland,  had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  it;  but  then, 
to  be  sure,  my  son  may  have  been  imprudent."  —  "1 
have  had  cruel  anxieties."  —  "  All  this  ma}'  decide  me 
to  give  up  m}'  business  ;  I  do  not  wish  ever  to  go 
to  court  again."  —  "My  son  has  had  enough  of  the 
Reformation  ;  it  has  cracked  all  his  joints.  If  it  had 
not  been  for  Ambroise,  I  don't  know  what  would  have 
become  of  me." 

Thanks  to  these  ambiguous  remarks  and  to  the  great 
discretion  of  such  conduct,  it  was  generall}'  averred  in 
the  neighborhood  that  Christophe  had  seen  the  error  of 


I 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  291 


Lis  ways  ;  everybody  thonglit  it  natural  tliat  the  old 
syndic  should  wish  to  get  his  son  appointed  to  the 
Parliament,  and  the  rector's  visits  no  longer  seemed 
extraordmary.  As  the  neighbors  reflected  on  the  old 
man's  anxieties  the}'  no  longer  thought,  as  they  would 
otherwise  have  done,  that  his  ambition  was  inordinate. 
The  young  lawyer,  who  had  lain  ht^lpless  for  months  on 
the  bed  which  his  family  made  up  for  him  in  the  old 
hall,  was  now,  for  the  last  week,  able  to  rise  and  move 
about  by  the  aid  of  crutches.  Babette's  love  and  his 
mother's  tenderness  had  deeply  touched  his  heart ;  and 
they,  while  they  had  him  helpless  in  their  hands,  lec- 
tured him  severely  on  religion.  President  de  Thou  paid 
his  godson  a  visit,  during  which  he  showed  himself 
most  fatherh'.  Christophe,  being  now  a  solicitor  of 
the  Parliament,  must  of  course,  he  said,  be  Catholic ; 
his  oath  would  bind  him  to  that ;  and  the  president, 
who  assumed  not  to  doubt  of  his  godson's  orthodoxy, 
ended  his  remarks  by  saying  with  great  earnestness : 

''  My  son,  you  have  been  cruelly  tried.  I  am  myself 
ignorant  of  the  reasons  which  made  the  Messieurs  de 
Guise  treat  3*ou  thus ;  but  I  advise  you  in  future  to 
live  peacefully,  without  entering  into  the  troubles  of  the 
times ;  for  the  favor  of  the  king  and  queen  will  not  be 
shown  to  the  makers  of  revolt.  You  are  not  important 
enough  to  play  fast  and  loose  with  the  king  as  the 
Guises  do.  If  you  wish  to  be  some  da}^  counsellor  to 
the  Parliament  remember  that  3'ou  cannot  obtain  that 
noble  office  unless  b}-  a  real  and  serious  attachment  to 
the  ro3'al  cause." 

Nevertheless,  neither  President  de  Thou's  visit,  nor 
the  seductions  of  Babette,  nor  the  urgency  of  his  mother, 


I 


292  Catherine  d^  Medici, 

were  sufficient  to  shake  the  constancy  of  the  martyr  of 
the  Refonnation.  Christophe  held  to  his  religion  all 
tlie  more  because  he  had  suffered  for  it 

"  My  father  will  never  let  me  marrj'  a  heretic,"  whis- 
pered Babette  in  his  ear. 

Christophe  answered  only  by  tears,  which  made  the 
young  girl  silent  and  thoughtful. 

Old  Lecamus  maintained  his  paternal  and  magiste- 
rial dignity  ;  he  observed  his  son  and  said  little.  The 
stern  old  man,  after  recovering  his  dear  Christophe,  was 
dissatisfied  with  himself;  he  repented  the  tenderness  he 
had  shown  for  this  onlv  son  :  but  he  admired  him  se- 
cretly.  At  no  period  of  his  life  did  the  syndic  pull  more 
wires  to  reach  his  ends,  for  he  saw  the  field  ripe  for  the 
harvest  so  painfully  sown,  and  he  wanted  to  gather  the 
whole  of  it.  Some  days  before  the  mornintr  of  which 
we  write,  he  had  had,  being  alone  with  Christophe,  a 
long  conversation  with  him  in  which  he  endeavored  to 
discover  the  secret  reason  of  the  young  man's  resist- 
ance. Christophe,  who  was  not  without  ambition,  be- 
tra3'ed  his  faith  in  the  Prince  de  Conde.  The  generous 
promise  of  the  prince,  who,  of  course,  was  onl}^  exer- 
cising his  profession  of  prince,  remained  graven  on  his 
heart ;  little  did  he  think  that  Conde  had  sent  him, 
mentally,  to  the  devil  in  Orleans,  muttering,  "  A  Gas- 
con would  have  understood  me  better,"  when  Christophe 
called  out  a  touching  farewell  as  the  prince  passed  the 
window  of  his  dungeon. 

But  besides  this  sentiment  of  admiration  for  the 
prince,  Christophe  had  also  conceived  a  profound  rev- 
erence for  the  great  queen,  who  had  explained  to  him 
by  a  single  look  the  necessity  which  compelled  her  to 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  .      293 

sacrifice  him  ;  and  who  during  his  agony  had  given 
him  an  inimitable  promise  in  a  single  tear.  During  the 
silent  months  of  his  weakness,  as  he  lay  there  waiting 
for  recovery,  he  had  thought  over  each  event  at  Blois  and 
at  Orleans.  He  weighed,  one  might  almost  say  in  spite 
of  himself,  the  relative  worth  of  these  two  protections. 
He  floated  between  the  queen  and  the  prince.  He  had 
certainly  served  Catherine  more  than  he  had  served  the 
Reformation,  and  in  a  young  man  both  heart  and  mind 
would  naturall}'  incline  toward  the  queen  ;  less  because 
she  was  a  queen  than  because  she  was  a  woman.  Under 
such  circumstances  a  man  will  always  hope  more  from 
a  woman  than  from  a  man. 

"  I  sacrificed  myself  for  her;  what  will  she  do  for 
me?" 

This  question  Christophe  put  to  himself  almost  invol- 
untarily as  he  remembered  the  tone  in  which  she  had 
said  the  words,  Povero  mio  /  It  is  diflScult  to  believe 
how  egotistical  a  man  can  become  when  he  lies  on  a  bed 
of  sickness.  Everything,  even  the  exclusive  devotion  of 
which  he  is  the  object,  drives  him  to  think  only  of 
himself  B}^  exaggerating  in  his  own  mind  the  obliga- 
tions which  the  Prince  de  Conde  was  under  to  him  he 
had  come  to  expect  that  some  oflfice  would  be  given  to 
him  at  the  court  of  Navarre.  Still  new  to  the  world  of 
political  life,  he  forgot  its  contending  interests  and  the 
rai)id  march  of  events  which  control  and  force  the  hand 
of  all  leaders  of  parties  ;  he  forgot  it  the  more  because 
he  was  practically  a  prisoner  in  solitary  confinement  on 
his  bed  in  that  old  brown  room.  Each  party  is,  neces- 
sarilv,  ungrateful  while  the  struggle  lasts ;  when  it 
triumphs  it  has  too  may  persons  to  reward  not  to  be 


294  Catherine  de*  Medici, 

ungrateful  still.  Soldiers  submit  to  this  ingratitude ; 
but  their  leaders  turn  against  the  new  master  at  whose 
side  the}'  have  acted  and  suffered  like  equals  for  so  long. 
Christophe,  who  alone  remembered  his  sufferings,  felt 
himself  alread}^  among  the  leaders  of  the  Reformation 
b}'  the  fact  of  his  martyrdom.  His  father,  that  old  fox 
of  commerce,  so  shrewd,  so  perspicacious,  ended  by 
divining  the  secret  thoughts  of  his  son  ;  consequentl}', 
all  his  manoeuvres  were  now  based  on  the  natural  ex- 
pectancy to  which  Christophe  had  yielded  himself. 

"  Would  n't  it  be  a  fine  thing,"  he  had  said  to  Ba- 
bette,  in  presence  of  the  family  a  few  days  before  his 
interview  with  his  son,  "  to  be  the  wife  of  a  counsellor 
of  the  Parhament?     You  would  be  called  madame  /" 

''You  are  crazy,  compere^"  said  Lallier.  "Where 
would  you  get  ten  thousand  crowns*  income  from  landed 
propert3%  which  a  counsellor  must  have,  according  to 
hiw  ;  and  from  whom  could  you  buy  the  office  ?  No 
one  but  the  queen-mother  and  regent  could  help  your 
son  into  Parliament,  and  I  'm  afraid  he  's  too  tainted 
with  the  new  opinions  for  that." 

"  What  would  you  pay  to  see  your  daughter  the  wife 
of  a  counsellor  ?  " 

"  Ah  I  3-0U  want  to  look  into  my  purse,  shrewd- 
head  I "  said  Lallier. 

Counsellor  to  the  Parliament !  The  words  worked 
powerfull}^  in  Christophers  brain. 

Sometime  after  this  conversation,  one  morning  when 
Christophe  was  gazing  at  the  river  and  thinking  of  the 
scene  which  began  this  history,  of  the  Prince  de  Conde, 
Chaudieu,  La  Renaudie,  of  his  journey  to  Blois,  —  in 
short,  the  whole  story  of  his  hopes,  —  his  father  came 


Catherine  de''  Medici.  295 

and  sat  down  beside  him,  scarcel}'  concealing  a  joyful 
thouglit  beneath  a  serious  manner. 

"  My  son,"  he  said,  ''  after  what  passed  between 
you  and  the  leaders  of  the  Tumult  of  Amboise,  they 
owe  you  enough  to  make  the  care  of  your  future  incum- 
bent on  the  house  of  Navarre.'^ 

"  Yes,"  replied  Christophe. 

"Well,"  continued  his  father,  "I  have  asked  their 
permission  to  buy  a  legal  practice  for  you  in  the  prov- 
ince of  Beam.  Our  good  friend  Pare  undertook  to  pre- 
sent the  letters  which  I  wrote  on  your  behalf  to  tlie 
Prince  de  Conde  and  the  queen  of  Navarre.  Here,  read 
the  answer  of  Monsieur  de  Pibrac,  vice-chancellor  of 
Navarre :  — 

To  THE  SiEUR  Lfcamus,  sj/ndic  of  the  guild  of  furriers  : 

Monseigiieur  le  Prince  de  Conde  desires  me  to  express 
his  regret  that  he  cannot  do  what  you  ask  for  his  late  com- 
panion in  the  tower  of  Saint- Aignan,  whom  he  perfectly 
remembers,  and  to  whom,  meanwhile,  he  offers  the  place  of 
gendarme  in  his  company ;  which  will  put  your  son  in  the 
way  of  making  his  mark  as  a  man  of  courage,  which  he  is. 

The  queen  of  Xavarre  awaits  an  opportunity  to  reward 
the  Sieur  Christophe,  and  will  not  fail  to  take  advantage 
of  it. 

Upon  which,  Monsieur  le  syndic,  we  pray  God  to  have 
you  in  His  keeping. 

Pibrac, 

At  Nerac.  Chancellor  of  Navarre. 

''Nerac,  Pibrac,  crack  !  "  cried  Babette.  '*  There 's 
no  confidence  to  be  placed  in  Gascons  ;  they  think  only 
of  themselves." 

Old  Lecamus  looked  at  his  son,  smiling  scornfully. 


296  Gather i7ie  de   Medici, 

"  The}'  propose  to  put  on  horseback  a  poor  bo}'  whose 
knees  and  ankles  were  shattered  for  their  sakes  !  "  cried 
the  mother.     "  What  a  wicked  jest !  " 

''  I  shall  never  see  you  a  counsellor  of  Navarre,"  said 
his  father. 

*'  I  wish  I  knew  what  Queen  Catherine  would  do  for 
me,  if  I  made  a  claim  upon  her,"  said  Christophe,  cast 
down  by  the  prince's  answer. 

"  She  made  you  no  promise,"  said  the  old  man,  "  but 
I  am  certain  that  she  will  never  mock  you  like  these 
others  ;  she  will  remember  your  sufferings.  Still,  how 
can  the  queen  make  a  counsellor  of  the  Parliament  ou* 
of  a  Protestant  burgher?  " 

"But  Christophe  has  not  abjured!"  cried  Babette. 
*^  He  can  very  well  keep  his  private  opinions  secret." 

"  The  Prince  de  Conde  would  be  less  disdainful  of  a 
counsellor  of  the  Parliament,"  said  Lallier. 

"  Well,  what  say  you,  Christophe?"  urged  Babette. 

^'  You  are  counting  without  the  queen,"  replied  the 
3'oung  law3'er. 

A  few  da3's  after  this  rather  bitter  disillusion,  an  ap- 
prentice brought  Christophe  the  following  laconic  little 
missive :  — 

"Chaudieu  wishes  to  see  his  son." 

''  Let  him  come  in  !  "  cried  Christophe. 

'*  Oh  !  my  sacred  martjT  !  "  said  the  minister,  embrac- 
ing him  ;  ''  have  you  recovered  from  your  sufferings?" 

"  Yes,  thanks  to  Pare." 

"Thanks  rather  to  God  who  gave  3'ou  the  strength 
to  endure  the  torture.  But  what  is  this  I  hear?  Have 
you  allowed   them   to   make   you   a   solicitor?     Have 


ft 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  297 

you  taken  the  oath  of  fidelity?  Surel}^  you  will  not 
recognise  that  prostitute,  the  Roman,  Catholic,  and 
apostolic  Church  ?  " 

"My  father  wished  it." 

"  But  ought  we  not  to  leave  fathers  and  mothers  and 
wives  and  children,  all,  all,  for  the  sacred  cause  of  Cal- 
vinism ;  na}',  must  we  not  suffer  all  things  ?  Ah ! 
Christophe,  Calvin,  the  great  Calvin,  the  whole  part}', 
the  whole  world,  the  Future  counts  upon  your  courage 
and  the  grandeur  of  your  soul.     We  want  your  life." 

It  is  a  remarkable  fact  in  the  mind  of  man  that  the 
most  devoted  spirits,  even  while  devoting  themselv^es, 
build  romantic  hopes  upon  their  perilous  enterprises. 
When  the  prince,  the  soldier,  and  the  minister  had  asked 
Christophe,  under  the  bridge,  to  convey  to  Catherine 
the  treaty  which,  if  discovered,  would  in  all  probability 
cost  him  his  life,  the  lad  had  relied  upon  his  nerve,  upon 
chance,  upon  the  powers  of  his  mind,  and  confident  in 
such  hopes  he  bravel}',  nay,  audaciously  put  himself 
between  those  terrible  adversaries,  the  Guises  and 
Catherine.  During  the  torture  he  still  kept  saying  to 
himself:  "I  shall  come  out  of  it!  it  is  onl}'  pain!" 
But  when  this  second  and  brutal  demand,  "  Die ;  we 
want  your  life,"  was  made  upon  a  boy  who  was  still 
almost  helpless,  scarcely  recovered  from  his  late  tor- 
ture, and  clinging  all  the  more  to  life  because  he  had 
just  seen  death  so  near,  it  was  impossible  for  him  to 
launch  into  further  illusions. 

Christophe  answered  quietly  :  — 

"What  is  it  now?" 

"  To  fire  a  pistol  courageously,  as  Stuart  did  on 
Minard." 


298  Catherine  de*  Medici. 

"  On  whom?  ' 

'^  The  Due  de  Guise." 

"  A  murder?" 

"A  vengeance.  Have  3-011  forgotten  the  hundred 
gentlemen  massacred  on  the  scaffold  at  Amboise?  A 
child  who  saw  that  butchery,  the  little  d'Aubigne  cried 
out,  ^The}^  have  slaughtered  France  !  "' 

"  You  should  receive  the  blows  of  others  and  give 
none ;  that  is  the  religion  of  the  gospel,"  said  Chris- 
tophe.  *'  If  3'ou  imitate  the  Catholics  in  their  cruelty, 
of  what  good  is  it  to  reform  the  Church?  " 

"  Oh  !  Christophe,  they  have  made  you  a  lawj'er,  and 
now  vou  argue  !  "  said  Chaudieu. 

"No,  my  friend,"  replied  the  young  man,  *'but  par- 
ties are  ungrateful ;  and  you  will  be,  both  you  and 
3'ours,  nothing  more  than  puppets  of  the  Bourbons." 

"  Christophe,  if  3'OU  could  hear  Calvin,  you  would 
know  how  we  wear  them  like  gloves !  The  Bourbons 
are  the  gloves,  we  are  the  hand." 

"  Read  that,"  said  Christophe,  giving  Chaudieu 
Pibrac's  letter  containing  the  answer  of  the  Prince  de 
Conde. 

"  Oh  !  m3'  son  ;  vou  are  ambitious,  3'ou  can  no  longer 
make  the  sacrifice  of  3'ourself !  —  I  pit3^  3'ou  !  " 

With  those  fine  words  Chaudieu  turned  and  left  him. 

Some  davs  after  that  scene,  the  Lallier  familv  and 
the  Lecamus  family  were  gathered  together  in  honor  of 
the  formal  betrothal  of  Christophe  and  Babette,  in  the 
old  brown  hall,  from  which  Christophe's  bed  had  been 
removed  ;  for  he  was  now  able  to  drag  himself  about 
and  even  mount  the  stairs  without  his  crutches.  It  was 
nine  o'clock  in  the  evening  and  thecompan3'  were  await- 


Catherine  dc'  Medici,  299 

ing  Ambroise  Pare.  The  family  notary  sat  before  a 
table  on  wliicli  lay  various  contracts.  The  furrier  was 
selling  his  house  and  business  to  his  head-clerk,  who 
was  to  pay  down  forty  thousand  francs  for  the  house 
and  then  mortgage  it  as  security  for  the  paN'ment  of  the 
goods,  for  which,  however,  he  paid  twenty  thousand 
francs  on  account. 

Lecamus  was  also  buying  for  his  son  a  magnificent 
stone  house,  built  by  Philibert  de  I'Orme  in  the  rue 
8aint-Pierre-aux-Boeufs,  which  he  gave  to  Christophe 
as  a  marriage  portion.  He  also  took  two  hundred 
thousand  francs  from  his  own  fortune,  and  Lallier  gave 
as  much  more,  for  the  purchase  of  a  fine  seignorial  manor 
in  Picardy,  the  price  of  which  was  five  hundred  thou- 
sand francs.  As  this  manor  was  a  tenure  from  the 
Crown  it  was  necessary  to  obtain  letters-patent  (called 
rescrlptions)  granted  by  the  king,  and  also  to  make  pay- 
ment to  the  Crown  of  considerable  feudal  dues.  The 
marriage  had  been  postponed  until  this  royal  favor  was 
obtained.  Though  the  burghers  of  Paris  had  latel}'  ac- 
quired the  right  to  purchase  manors,  the  wisdom  of  the 
privy  council  had  been  exercised  In  putting  certain  re- 
strictions on  the  sale  of  those  estates  which  were  depen- 
dencies of  the  Crown  ;  and  the  one  which  old  Lecamus 
had  had  in  his  eye  for  the  last  dozen  years  was  among 
them.  Ambroise  was  pledged  to  bring  the  royal  ordi- 
nance that  evening  ;  and  the  old  furrier  went  and  came 
from  the  hall  to  the  door  in  a  state  of  impatience  which 
showed  how  great  his  long-repressed  ambition  had  been. 
Ambroise  at  last  appeared. 

"  My  old  friend !  "  cried  the  surgeon,  in  an  agitated 
manner,  with  a  glance  at  the  supper  table,  *'  let  me  see 


300  Catherine  cle    Medici. 

your  linen.     Good.     Oh  !  you  must  have  wax- candles. 
Quick,  quick  !   get  out  your  best  things  !  " 

''  Why?  what  is  it  all  about?"  asked  the  rector  of 
Saint-Pierre-aux-Boeufs. 

*'  The  queen- mother  and  the  young  king  are  coming 
to  sup  with  you,"  replied  the  surgeon.  "They  are  only 
waiting  for  an  old  counsellor  who  agreed  to  sell  his 
place  to  Christophe,  and  with  whom  Monsieur  de  Thou 
has  concluded  a  bargain.  Don't  appear  to  know  any- 
thing ;  I  have  escaped  from  the  Louvre  to  warn  you." 

In  a  second  the  whole  family  were  astir ;  Chris- 
tophers mother  and  Babette's  aunt  bustled  about  with 
the  celerity  of  housekeepers  suddenly  surprised.  But 
in  spite  of  the  apparent  confusion  into  which  the  news 
had  thrown  the  entire  family,  the  preparations  were 
promptly  made,  with  an  activity  that  was  nothing  short 
of  marvellous.  Christophe,  amazed  and  confounded 
by  such  a  favor,  was  speechless,  gazing  mechanically 
at  what  went  on. 

"  The  queen  and  the  king  here  in  our  house  !  '^  said 
the  old  mother. 

"  The  queen  !  "  repeated  Babette.  "  What  must  we 
say  and  do  ?  " 

In  less  than  an  hour  all  was  changed ;  the  hall  was 
decorated ;  the  supper-table  sparkled.  Presentl}'  the 
noise  of  horses  sounded  in  the  street.  The  light  of 
torches  carried  b}^  the  horsemen  of  the  escort  brought 
all  the  burghers  of  the  neighborhood  to  their  windows. 
The  noise  soon  subsided  and  the  escort  rode  away,  leav- 
ing the  queen-mother  and  her  son.  King  Charles  IX., 
Charles  de  Gondi,  now  Grand-master  of  the  wardrobe 
and  governor  of  the  king,  Monsieur  de  Thou,  Pinard, 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  301 

secretaiy  of  State,  the  old  counsellor,  and  two  pages, 
under  the  arcade  before  the  door. 

''  My  worthy  people,"  said  the  queen  as  she  entered, 
''  the  king,  m}"  son,  and  I  have  come  to  sign  the  mar- 
riage-contract of  the  son  of  m}^  furrier,  —  but  only  on 
condition  that  he  remains  a  Catholic.  A  man  must  be 
a  Catholic  to  enter  Parliament ;  he  must  be  a  Catholic 
to  own  land  which  derives  from  the  Crown ;  he  must  be 
a  Catholic  if  he  would  sit  at  the  king's  table.  That  is 
so,  is  it  not,  Pinard  ?  " 

The  secretary  of  State  entered  and  showed  the 
letters-patent. 

''If  we  are  not  all  Catholics,"  said  the  little  king, 
"  Pinard  will  throw  those  papers  into  the  fire.  But  we 
are  all  Catholics  here,  I  think,"  he  continued,  casting 
his  somewhat  haughty  eyes  over  the  compan}*. 

1^  '*  Yes,  sire,"  replied  Christophe,  bending  his  injured 
knees  with  difficult}',  and  kissing  the  hand  which  the 
king  held  out  to  him. 

H  Queen  Catherine  stretched  out  her  hand  to  Christophe 
and,  raising  him  hastily,  drew  him  aside  into  a  corner, 
saying  in  a  low  voice  :  — 

U  "  Ah  qa  !  my  lad,  no  evasions  here.  Are  yon  playing 
above-board  now  ?  " 

''  Yes,  madame,''  he  answered,  won  b}"  the  dazzling 
reward  and  the  honor  done  him  b}'  the  grateful  queen. 

''  Very  good.  Monsieur  Lecamus,  the  king,  my  son, 
and  I  permit  you  to  purchase  the  office  of  the  goodman 
Grosla}^  counsellor  of  the  Parliament,  here  present. 
Young  man,  you  will  follow,  I  hope,  in  the  steps  of 
your  predecessor." 

De  Thou  advanced  and  said:  "I  will  answer  for 
him^  madame. 


I 


302  Catheinne  de'  Medici. 

''  Veiy  well ;  draw  up  the  deed,  notary,"  said  Piiiard. 

^  Inasmuch  as  the  king  our  master  does  us  the  favor 
to  sign  m}'  daughter's  marriage  contract,"  cried  Lallier, 
"  I  will  pa}'  the  whole  price  of  the  manor." 

'^The  ladies  may  sit  down,"  said  the  young  king, 
graciously :  "  As  a  wedding  present  to  the  bride  I  re- 
mit, with  m}'  mother's  consent,  all  mj'  dues  and  rights 
in  the  manor." 

Old  Lecamus  and  Lallier  fell  on  their  knees  and 
kissed  the  king's  hand. 

^'- Mordieu  /  sire,  what  quantities  of  mone}^  these 
burghers  have  !  "  whispered  de  Goudi  in  his  ear. 

The  young  king  laughed. 

"  As  their  Highnesses  are  so  kind,"  said  old  Lecamus, 
"  will  they  permit  me  to  present  to  them  my  successor, 
and  ask  them  to  continue  to  him  the  royal  patent  of 
furrier  to  their  Majesties?  " 

'*  Let  us  see  him,"  said  the  king. 

Lecamus  led  forward  his  successor,  who  was  livid  with 
fear. 

*^If  my  mother  consents,  we  will  now  sit  down  to 
table,"  said  the  little  king. 

Old  Lecamus  had  bethought  him  of  presenting  to  the 
king  a  silver  goblet  which  he  had  bought  of  Benvenuto 
Cellini  when  the  latter  stayed  in  Paris  at  the  hotel  de 
Nesle.  This  treasure  of  art  had  cost  the  furrier  no 
less  than  two  thousand  crowns." 

*^0h!  ni}'  dear  mother,  see  this  beautiful  work!" 
cried  the  3'oung  king,  lifting  the  goblet  b}'  its  stem. 

^'Itwas  made  in  Florence,"  replied  Catherine. 

"  Pardon  me,  madame,"  said  Lecamus,  ''  it  was  made 
in  Paris  by  a  Florentine.     All  that  is  made  in  Florence 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  303 

would  belong  to  your  Majest}- ;  that  which  is  made  in 
France  is  the  king's." 

''  I  accept  it,  my  good  man,"  cried  Charles  IX.  ;  "  and 
it  shall  henceforth  be  my  particular  drinking  cup. 

'*lt  is  beautiful  enough,"  said  the  queen,  examining 
the  masterpiece,  ''to  be  included  among  the  crown- 
jewels.  Well,  Maitre  Ambroise,"  she  whispered  in  the 
surgeon's  ear,  with  a  glance  at  Christophe,  "  have  you 
taken  good  care  of  him?     Will  he  walk  again?" 

"  He  will  run,"  replied  the  surgeon,  smiling.  "  Ah! 
you  have  cleverly  made  him  a  renegade." 

"  Ha  ! "  said  the  queen,  with  the  levit}'  for  which  slie 
has  been  blamed,  though  it  was  only  on  the  surface, 
"  the  Church  won't  stand  still  for  want  of  one  monk ! " 

The  supper  was  ga}* ;  the  queen  thought  Babette 
pretty,  and,  in  the  regal  manner  which  was  natural  to 
her,  she  slipped  upon  the  girl's  finger  a  diamond  ring 
which  compensated  in  value  for  the  goblet  bestowed 
upon  the  king.  Charles  IX.,  who  afterwards  became 
rather  too  fond  of  these  invasions  of  burgher  homes, 
supped  with  a  good  appetite.  Then,  at  a  word  from 
his  new  governor  (who,  it  is  said,  was  instructed  to 
make  him  forget  the  virtuous  teachings  of  Cypierre) ,  he 
obliged  all  the  men  present  to  drink  so  deeply  that  the 
queen,  observing  that  the  gayetj^  was  about  to  become 
too  nois}',  rose  to  leave  the  room.  As  she  rose,  Chris- 
tophe, his  father,  and  the  two  women  took  torches  and 
acconppanied  her  to  the  shop-door.  There  Christophe 
ventured  to  touch  the  queen's  wide  sleeve  and  to  make 
her  a  sign  that  he  had  something  to  say.  Catherine 
stopped,  made  a  gesture  to  the  father  and  the  two 
women  to  leave  her,  and  said,  turning  to  Christophe : 


304  Catherine  de*  Medici, 

''What  is  it?" 

''It  may  serve  aou  to  know,  madame,"  replied  Cliris- 
tophe,  whispering  in  lier  ear,  "  that  the  Due  de  Guise 
is  being  followed  by  assassins." 

"  You  are  a  loyal  subject,"  said  Catherine,  smiling, 
"  and  I  shall  never  forget  you." 

She  held  out  to  him  her  hand,  so  celebrated  for  its 
beauty,   first  ungloving  it,  wliich  was  indeed  a  mark  of 
favor,  —  so  much  so  that  Christophe,  then  and  there, 
became  altogether  royaUst  as  he  kissed  that  adorable 
hand. 

*'  So  they  mean  to  rid  me  of  that  bully  without  my 
having  a  finger  in  it,"  thought  she  as  she  replaced  her 
glove. 

Then  she  mounted  her  mule  and  returned  to  the 
Louvre,  attended  by  her  two  pages. 

Christophe  went  back  to  the  supper-table,  but  was 
thoughtful  and  gloomy  even  while  he  drank ;  the  fine, 
austere  face  of  Ambroise  Pare  seemed  to  reproach  him 
for  his  apostasy.  But  subsequent  events  justified  the 
manoeuvres  of  the  old  syndic.  Christophe  would  cer- 
tainly not  have  escaped  the  massacre  of  Saint-Bartholo- 
mew ;  his  wealth  and  his  landed  estates  would  have 
made  him  a  mark  for  the  murderers.  History  has  re- 
corded the  cruel  fate  of  the  wife  of  Lallier's  successor, 
a  beautiful  woman,  whose  naked  body  hung  by  the  hair 
for  three  days  from  one  of  the  buttresses  of  the  Pont  au 
Change.  Babette  trembled  as  she  thought  that  she, 
too,  might  have  endured  the  same  treatment  if  Chris- 
tophe had  continued  a  Calvinist,  —  for  such  became  the 
name  of  the  Reformers.  Calvin's  personal  ambition  was 
thus  gratified,  though  not  until  after  his  death. 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  305 

Such  was  the  origin  of  the  celebrated  parliamentary 
house  of  Lecamus.  Talleinant  des  Reaux  is  in  error 
when  he  states  that  the}'  came  originally  from  Picard}'. 
It  is  only  true  that  the  Lecamus  family  found  it  for 
their  interest  in  after  days  to  date  from  the  time  the  old 
furrier  bought  their  principal  estate,  which,  as  we  have 
said,  was  situated  in  Picardy.  Christophe's  son,  who 
succeeded  him  under  Louis  XIIL,  was  the  father  of  the 
rich  president  Lecamus  who  built,  in  the  reign  of  Louis 
XIV.,  that  magnificent  mansion  which  shares  with  the 
hotel  Lambert  the  admiration  of  Parisians  and  foreign- 
ers,  and  was  assuredly  one  of  the  finest  buildings  in 
Paris.  It  may  still  be  seen  in  the  rue  Thorigny,  though 
at  the  beginning  of  the  Revolution  it  was  pillaged  as 
having  belonged  to  Monsieur  de  Juigne,  the  archbishop 
of  Paris.  All  the  decorations  were  then  destroyed  ;  and 
the  tenants  who  lodge  there  have  greatly  damaged  it ; 
nevertheless  this  palace,  which  is  reached  through  the 
old  house  in  the  rue  de  la  Pelleterie,  still  shows  the 
noble  results  obtained  in  former  days  b}^  the  spirit  of 
family.  It  may  be  doubted  whether  modern  individu- 
alism, brought  about  by  the  equal  division  of  inheri- 
tances, will  ever  raise  such  noble  buildings. 


20 


o 


06  Catherine  de   Medici. 


PART    SECOND. 

THE   SECRETS  OF   THE   RUGGIERI. 

I. 

THE  COURT  UNDER  CHARLES  IX. 

Between  eleven  o'clock  and  midnight  toward  the  end 
of  October,  1573,  two  Italians,  Florentines  and  brothers, 
Albert  de  Gondi,  Due  de  Retz  and  marshal  of  France, 
and  Charles  de  Gondi  la  Tour,  Grand-master  of  the 
robes  of  Charles  IX.,  were  sitting  on  the  roof  of  a  house 
in  the  rue  Saint-Honore,  at  the  edge  of  a  gutter.  This 
gutter  was  one  of  those  stone  channels  which  in  former 
da3's  were  constructed  below  the  roofs  of  houses  to  re- 
ceive the  rain-water,  discharging  it  at  regular  intervals 
through  those  long  gargoyles  carved  in  the  shape  of 
fantastic  animals  with  gaping  mouths.  In  spite  of  the 
zeal  with  which  our  present  generation  pulls  down 
and  demolishes  venerable  buildings,  there  still  existed 
many  of  these  projecting  gutters  until,  quite  recentl}', 
an  ordinance  of  the  police  as  to  water-conduits  com- 
pelled them  to  disappear.  But  even  so,  a  few  of  these 
carved  gargoyles  still  remain,  chieflj'  in  the  guartier 
Saint-Antoine,  where  low  rents  and  values  hinder  the 
building  of  new  storeys  under  the  eaves  of  the  roofs. 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  307 

It  certainly  seems  strange  that  two  personages  in- 
vested with  such  important  offices  should  be  pkiying  tlie 
part  of  cats.  But  whosoever  will  burrow  into  the  his- 
toric treasures  of  those  days,  when  personal  interests 
jostled  and  thwarted  each  other  around  the  throne  till 
the  whole  political  centre  of  France  was  like  a  skein  of 
tangled  thread,  will  readily  understand  that  the  two 
Florentines  were  cats  indeed,  and  very  much  in  their 
places  in  a  gutter.  Their  devotion  to  the  person  of  the 
queen-mother,  Catherine  de'  Medici  —who  had  brought 
them  to  the  court  of  France  and  foisted  them  into  their 
high  offices  —  compelled  them  not  to  recoil  before  any  of 
the  consequences  of  their  intrusion.  But  to  explain  how 
and  why  these  courtiers  were  thus  perched,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  relate  a  ^cene  which  had  taken  place  an  hour 
earlier  not  far  from  this  very  gutter,  in  that  beautiful 
brown  room  of  the  Louvre,  all  that  now  remains  to  us 
of  the  apartments  of  Henri  II.,  in  which  after  supper 
the  courtiers  had  been  paying  court  to  the  two  queens, 
Catherine  de'  Medici  and  Elizabeth  of  Austria,  and  to 
their  son  and  husband  King  Charles  IX. 

In  those  days  the  majority  of  the  burghers  and  great 
lords  supped  at  six,  or  at  seven  o'clock,  but  the  more 
refined  and  elegant  supped  at  eight  or  even  nine.  This 
repast  was  the  dinner  of  to-da}*.  Man}^  persons  erron- 
eousl}^  believe  that  etiquette  was  invented  by  Louis 
XIV.  ;  on  the  contrary  it  was  introduced  into  France 
by  Catherine  de'  Medici,  who  made  it  so  severe  that 
the  Connetable  de  Montmorency  had  more  difficulty  in 
obtaining  permission  to  enter  the  court  of  the  Louvre 
on  horseback  than  in  winning  his  sword  ;  moreover,  that 
unheard-of  distinction  was  granted  to  him  only  on  ac- 


308  Catherine  de   Medici. 

count  of  bis  great  age.  Etiquette,  which  was,  it  is  true, 
slightly-  relaxed  under  the  two  first  Bourbon  kings,  took 
an  Oriental  form  under  the  Great  Monarch,  for  it  was 
introduced  from  the  Eastern  Empire,  which  derived  it 
from  Persia.  In  1573  few  persons  had  the  right  to 
enter  the  courtyard  of  the  Louvre  with  their  servants 
and  torches  (under  Louis  XIV.  the  coaches  of  none  but 
dukes  and  peers  were  allowed  to  pass  under  the  peri- 
style) ;  moreover,  the  cost  of  obtaining  entrance  after 
supper  to  the  royal  apartments  was  ver}^  heav}'.  The 
Marechal  de  Retz,  whom  we  have  just  seen,  perched  on 
a  gutter,  offered  on  one  occasion  a  thousand  crowns  of 
that  da}',  six  thousand  francs  of  our  present  money,  to 
the  usher  of  the  king's  cabinet  to  be  allowed  to  speak 
to  Henri  III.  on  a  day  when  he  was  not  on  dut}'.  To  an 
historian  who  knows  the  truth,  it  is  laughable  to  see  the 
well-known  picture  of  the  courtyard  at  Blois,  in  which 
the  artist  has  introduced  a  courtier  on  horseback  ! 

On .  the  present  occasion,  therefore,  none  but  the 
most  eminent  personages  in  the  kingdom  were  in  the 
royal  apartments.  The  queen,  Elizabeth  of  Austria, 
and  her  mother-in-law,  Catherine  de'  Medici,  were 
seated  together  on  the  left  of  the  fireplace.  On  the 
other  side  sat  the  king,  buried  in  an  armchair,  affect- 
ing a  lethargy  consequent  on  digestion,  —  for  he  had  just 
supped  like  a  prince  returned  from  hunting  ;  possibly  he 
was  seeking  to  avoid  conversation  in  presence  of  so 
many  persons  who  were  spies  upon  his  thoughts.  The 
courtiers  stood  erect  and  uncovered  at  the  end  of  the 
room.  Some  talked  in  a  low  voice  ;  others  watched  the 
king,  awaiting  the  bestowal  of  a  look  or  a  word.  Occa- 
sionally one  was  called  up  by  the  queen-mother,  who 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  309 

talked  with  him  for  a  few  moments  ;  another  risked 
saying  a  word  to  the  king,  who  replied  with  either  a 
nod  or  a  brief  sentence.  A  German  nobleman,  the 
Comte  de  Solern,  stood  at  the  corner  of  the  fireplace 
behind  the  young  queen,  the  granddaughter  of  Charles 
v.,  whom  he  had  accompanied  into  France.  Near  to 
her  on  a  stool  sat  her  lad}'  of  honor,  the  Comtesse  de 
Fiesque,  a  Strozzi,  and  a  relation  of  Catherine  de' 
Medici.  The  beautiful  Madame  de  Sauves,  a  descend- 
ant of  Jacques  Coeur,  mistress  of  the  king  of  Navarre, 
then  of  the  king  of  Poland,  and  lastly  of  the  Due 
d'Alen^on,  had  been  invited  to  supper;  but  she  stood 
like  the  rest  of  the  court,  her  husband's  rank  (that  of 
secretary  of  State)  giving  her  no  right  to  be  seated. 
Behind  these  two  ladies  stood  the  two  Gondis,  talkins: 
to  theiu.  The}'  alone  of  this  dismal  assembly  were 
smiling.  Albert  Gondi,  now  Due  de  Retz,  marshal  of 
France,  and  gentleman  of  the  bed-chamber,  had  been 
^deputed  to  marry  the  queen  b\'  proxy  at  Spire.  In  the 
first  line  of  courtiers  nearest  to  the  kins  stood  the 
Marechal  de  Tavannes,  who  was  present  on  court 
business  ;  Neufville  de  Villeroy,  one  of  the  ablest  bank- 
ers of  the  period,  who  laid  the  foundation  of  the  great 
house  of  that  name ;  Birago  and  Chiverni,  gentlemen 
of  the  queen-mother,  who,  knowing  her  preference  for 
her  son  Henri  (the  brother  whom  Charles  IX.  regarded 
as  an  enemy),  attached  themselves  especiall}'  to  him  ; 
then  Strozzi,  Catherine's  cousin  ;  and  finall}^  a  num- 
ber of  great  lords,  among  them  the  old  Cardinal  de 
Lorraine  and  his  nephew,  the  young  Due  de  Guise,  who 
were  held  at  a  distance  by  the  king  and  his  mother. 
These  two  leaders  of  the  Holy  Alliance,  and  later  of 


310  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

the  League  (founded  in  conjunction  with  Spain  a  few 
years  earlier),  affected  the  submission  of  servants  who 
are  onlj^  waiting  an  opportunity  to  make  themselves 
masters.  Catherine  and  Charles  IX.  watched  each 
other  with  close  attention. 

At  this  gloom}' court,  as  gloom}^  as  the  room  in  which 
it  was  held,  each  individual  had  his  or  her  own  reasons 
for  being  sad  or  thoughtful.  The  young  queen,  Eliza- 
beth, was  a  pre}'  to  the  tortures  of  jealous}^  and  could 
ill-disguise  them,  though  she  smiled  upon  her  husband, 
whom  she  passionately  adored,  good  and  pious  woman 
that  she  was  !  Marie  Touchet,  the  only  mistress  Charles 
IX.  ever  had  and  to  whom  he  was  loyally  faithful,  had 
latel}'  returned  from  the  chateau  de  Fa3'et  in  Dauphine, 
whither  she  had  gone  to  give  birth  to  a  child.  She 
brought  back  to  Charles  IX.  a  son,  his  only  son, 
Charles  de  Valois,  first  Comte  d'Auvergne,  and  after- 
ward Due  d'Angouleme.  The  poor  queen,  in  addi- 
tion to  the  mortification  of  her  abandonment,  now 
endured  the  pang  of  knowing  that  her  rival  had  borne  a 
son  to  her  husband  while  she  had  brought  him  onl}'  a 
daughter.  And  these  were  not  her  onl}'  troubles  and 
disillusions,  for  Catherine  de'  Medici,  who  had  seemed 
her  friend  in  the  first  instance,  now,  out  of  polic}',  fa- 
vored her  betra3'al,  preferring  to  serve  the  mistress  rather 
than  the  wife  of  the  king,  —  for  the  following  reason. 

When  Charles  IX.  openly  avowed  his  passion  for 
Marie  Touchet,  Catherine  showed  favor  to  the  girl  in 
the  interests  of  her  own  desire  for  domination.  Mane 
Touchet,  who  was  A^er}'  young  when  brought  to  court, 
came  at  an  age  when  all  the  noblest  sentiments  are 
predominant.      She  loved  the  king  for  himself  alone. 


Catherine  de    Medici.  311 

Frightened  at  the  fate  to  which  ambition  had  led  the 
Duchesse  de  Valentinois  (better  known  as  Diane  de 
Poitiers),  she  dreaded  the  queen  mother,  and  greatly  pre- 
ferred her  simple  happiness  to  grandeur.  Perhaps  she 
thought  that  lovers  as  young  as  the  king  and  herself 
could  never  struggle  successful!}'  against  the  queen- 
mother.  As  the  daughter  of  Jean  Touchet,  Sieur  de 
Beauvais  and  Quillard,  she  was  born  between  the  burgher 
class  and  the  lower  nobility  ;  she  had  none  of  the  inborn 
ambitions  of  the  Pisseleus  and  Saint- Valliers,  girls  of 
rank,  who  battled  for  their  families  with  the  hidden 
weapons  of  love.  Marie  Touchet,  without  famil}'  or 
friends,  spared  Catherine  de'  Medici  all  antagonism  with 
her  son's  mistress  ;  the  daughter  of  a  great  house  would 
have  been  her  rival.  Jean  Touchet,  the  father,  one  of 
the  finest  wits  of  the  time,  a  man  to  whom  poets  dedi- 
cated their  works,  wanted  nothing  at  court.  Marie,  a 
young  girl  without  connections,  intelhgent  and  well- 
educated,  and  also  simple  and  artless,  whose  desires 
would  probably  never  be  aggressive  to  the  royal  power, 
suited  the  queen-mother  admirabl}'.  In  short,  she 
made  the  parliament  recognize  the  son  to  whom  Marie 
Touchet  had  just  given  birth  in  the  month  of  April,  and 
she  allowed  him  to  take  tlie  title  of  Comte  d'Auvergne, 
assuring  Charles  IX.  that  she  would  leave  the  boy  her 
personal  property,  the  counties  of  Auvergne  and  Lara- 
guais.  At  a  later  period.  Marguerite  de  Valois,  queen 
of  Navarre,  contested  this  legacy  after  she  was  queen 
of  France,  and  the  Parliament  annulled  it.  But  later 
still,  Louis  XIIL,  out  of  respect  for  the  Valois  blood, 
indemnified  the  Comte  d'Auvergne  by  the  gift  of  the 
duchy  of  Angouleme. 


01  o 


12  Catherine  de    Medici. 

Catherine  bad  already  given  Marie  Toiichet,  who 
asked  nothing,  the  manor  of  Belleville,  an  estate  close 
to  Vincennes  which  carried  no  title  ;  and  thither  she 
went  whenever  the  king  hunted  and  spent  the  night  at 
the  castle.  It  was  in  this  gloomy  fortress  that  Charles 
IX.  passed  the  greater  part  of  his  last  years,  ending 
his  life  there,  according  to  some  historians,  as  Louis 
XII.  had  ended  his. 

The  queen-mother  kept  close  watch  upon  her  son. 
All  the  occupations  of  his  personal  life,  outside  of  poli- 
tics, were  reported  to  her.  The  king  had  begun  to  look 
upon  his  mother  as  an  enem3%  but  the  kind  intentions 
she  expressed  toward  his  son  diverted  his  suspicions 
for  a  time.  Catherine's  motives  in  this  matter  were 
never  understood  by  Queen  Elizabeth,  who,  according 
to  Brantome,  was  one  of  the  gentlest  queens  that  ever 
reigned,  who  never  did  harm  or  even  gave  pain  to 
any  one,  '*  and  was  careful  to  read  her  prayer-book 
secretly,"  But  this  single-minded  princess  began  at 
last  to  see  the  precipices  3'awning  around  the  throne, — 
a  dreadful  discover}-,  which  might  indeed  have  made  her 
quail ;  it  was  some  such  remembrance,  no  doubt,  that 
led  her  to  saj'  to  one  of  her  ladies,  after  the  death  of 
the  king,  in  repl}'  to  a  condolence  that  she  had  no  son, 
and  could  not,  therefore,  be  regent  and  queen-mother : 

''  Ah !  I  thank  God  that  I  have  no  son.  I  know  well 
what  would  have  happened.  My  poor  son  would  have 
been  despoiled  and  wronged  like  the  king,  my  husband, 
and  I  should  have  been  the  cause  of  it.  God  had 
mercy  on  the  State ;  he  has  done  all  for  the  best." 

This  princess,  whose  portrait  Brantome  thinks  he 
draws  by  saying  that  her  complexion  was  as  beautiful 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  313 

and  delicate  as  the  ladies  of  her  suite  were  channinor 
and  agreeable,  and  that  her  figure  was  fine  though 
rather  short,  was  of  little  account  at  her  own  court. 
Sufifering  from  a  double  grief,  her  saddened  attitude 
added  another  gloom^^  tone  to  a  scene  which  most  3'oung 
queens,  less  cruelly  injured,  might  have  enlivened.  The 
pious  Elizabeth  proved  at  this  crisis  that  the  qualities 
which  are  the  shining  glory  of  women  in  the  ordinary 
ways  of  life  can  be  fatal  to  a  sovereign.  A  princess 
able  to  occupy  herself  with  other  things  besides  her 
prayer-book  might  have  been  a  useful  helper  to  Charles 
IX.,  who  found  no  prop  to  lean  on,  either  in  his  wife  or 
in  his  mistress. 

The  queen-mother,  as  she  sat  there  in  that  brown 
room,  was  closely  observing  the  king,  who,  during 
supper,  had  exhibited  a  boisterous  good-humor  which 
she  felt  to  be  assumed  in  order  to  mask  some  inten- 
tion against  her.  This  sudden  gayet}^  contrasted  too 
vividly  with  the  struggle  of  mind  he  endeavored  to 
conceal  by  his  eagerness  in  hunting,  and  by  an  almost 
maniacal  toil  at  his  forge,  where  he  spent  man}^  hours 
in  hammering  iron  ;  and  Catherine  was  not  deceived  by 
it.  Without  being  able  even  to  guess  which  of  the 
statesmen  about  the  king  was  employed  to  prepare  or 
negotiate  it  (for  Charles  IX.  contrived  to  mislead  his 
mother's  spies) ,  Catherine  felt  no  doubt  whatever  that 
some  scheme  for  her  overthrow  was  being  planned. 
The  unlooked-for  presence  of  Tavannes,  who  arrived  at 
the  same  time  as  Strozzi,  whom  she  herself  had  sum- 
moned, gave  her  food  for  thought.  Strong  in  the 
strength  of  her  political  combination,  Catherine  was 
above  the  reach  of  circumstances  ;  but  she  was  power- 


314  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

less  against  some  sudden  violence.  As  man}-  persons 
are  ignorant  of  the  actual  state  of  public  affairs  then 
so  complicated  b}'  the  various  parties  that  distracted 
France,  the  leaders  of  which  had  each  their  private  in- 
terests to  carr}'  out,  it  is  necessary  to  describe,  in  a  few 
words,  the  perilous  game  in  which  the  queen- mother 
was  now  engaged.  To  show  Catherine  de'  Medici  in  a 
new  light  is,  in  fact,  the  root  and  stock  of  our  present 
history. 

Two  words  explain  this  woman,  so  curiously  inter- 
esting to  study,  a  woman  whose  influence  has  left  such 
deep  impressions  upon  France.  Those  words  are : 
Power  and  Astrology.  Exclusively  ambitious,  Cath- 
erine de'  Medici  had  no  other  passion  than  that  of 
power.  Superstitious  and  fatalistic,  like  so  man}-  su- 
perior men,  slie  had  no  sincere  belief  except  in  occult 
sciences.  Unless  this  double  mainspring  is  known,  the 
conduct  of  Catherine  de'  Medici  will  remain  forever 
misunderstood.  As  we  picture  her  faith  in  judicial 
astrology,  the  light  will  fall  upon  two  personages,  who 
are,  in  fact,  the  philosophical  subjects  of  this  Study. 

There  lived  a  man  for  whom  Catherine  cared  more 
than  for  anv  of  her  children ;  his  name  was  Cosmo 
Ruggiero.  He  lived  in  a  house  belonging  to  her,  the 
hotel  de  Soissons ;  she  made  him  her  supreme  adviser. 
It  was  his  duty  to  tell  her  whether  the  stars  ratified  the 
advice  and  judgment  of  her  ordinary  counsellors.  Cer- 
tain remarkable  antecedents  warranted  the  power  which 
Cosmo  Ruggiero  retained  over  his  mistress  to  her  last 
hour.  One  of  the  most  learned  men  of  the  sixteenth 
century  was  ph}  sician  to  Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  Due  d* 
Urbiuo,  Catherine's  father.     This  physician  was  called 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  315 


Ruggiero  the  Elder  (Vecchio  Riiggier  and  Roger  TAn- 
cien  in  the  French  authors  who  have  written  on  al- 
chemy), to  distinguish  him  from  his  two  sons,  Lorenzo 
Ruggiero,  called  the  Great  by  cabalistic  writers,  and 
Cosmo  Ruggiero,  Catherine's  astrologer,  also  called 
Roger  by  several  French  historians.  In  France  it  was 
the  custom  to  pronounce  the  name  in  general  as  Rug- 
gieri.  Ruggiero  the  elder  was  so  highl}'  valued  by  the 
Medici  that  the  two  dukes,  Cosmo  and  Lorenzo,  stood 
godfathers  to  his  two  sons.  He  cast,  in  concert  with 
the  famous  mathematician,  Basilio,  the  horoscope  of 
Catherine's  nativit}',  in  his  official  capacity  as  mathema- 
tician, astrologer,  and  physician  to  the  house  of  Medici ; 
three  offices  which  are  often  confounded. 

At  the  period  of  which  we  write  the  occult  sciences 
were  studied  with  an  ardor  that  may  surprise  the  in- 
credulous minds  of  our  own  age,  which  is  supremely 
analytical.  Perhaps  such  minds  ma^'  find  in  this  his- 
torical sketch  the  dawn,  or  rather  the  germ,  of  the  pos- 
itive sciences  which  have  flowered  in  the  nineteenth 
century,  though  without  the  poetic  grandeur  given  to 
them  by  the  audacious  Seekers  of  the  sixteenth,  who, 
instead  of  using  them  solely  for  mechanical  industries, 
magnified  Art  and  fertilized  Thought  by  their  means. 
The  protection  universally  given  to  occult  science  by 
the  sovereigns  of  those  days  was  justified  by  the  noble 
creations  of  many  inventors,  who,  starting  in  quest  of 
the  Great  Work  (the  so-called  philosophers^  stone),  at- 
tained to  astonishing  results.  At  no  period  were  the 
sovereigns  of  the  world  more  eager  for  the  study  of 
these  mysteries.  The  Fuggers  of  Augsburg,  in  whom 
all  modern  Luculluses  will  recognize  their  princes,  and 


316  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

all  bankers  their  masters,  were  gifted  with  powers  of 
calculation  it  would  be  difficult  to  surpass.  Well,  those 
practical  men,  who  loaned  the  funds  of  all  Europe  to  the 
sovereigns  of  the  sixteenth  century  (as  deeply  in  debt  as 
the  kings  of  the  present  da}'),  those  illustrious  guests 
of  Chailes  V.  were  sleeping  partners  in  the  crucibles 
of  Paracelsus.  At  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
turj',  Ruggiero  the  elder  was  the  head  of  that  secret 
university  from  which  issued  the  Cardans,  the  Nostra- 
damuses,  and  the  Agrippas  (all  in  their  turn  ph3'sicians 
of  the  house  of  Valois)  ;  also  the  astronomers,  astrolo- 
gers, and  alchemists  who  surrounded  the  princes  of 
Christendom  and  were  more  especiallj^  welcomed  and 
protected  in  France  by  Catherine  de'  Medici.  In  tiie 
nativity  drawn  by  Basilio  and  Ruggiero  the  elder,  the 
principal  events  of  Catherine's  life  were  foretold  with  a 
correctness  which  is  quite  disheartening  for  those  who 
deny  the  power  of  occult  science.  This  horoscope 
predicted  the  misfortunes  which  during  the  siege  of 
Florence  imperilled  the  beginning  of  her  life  ;  also  her 
marriage  with  a  son  of  the  king  of  France,  the  unex- 
pected succession  of  that  son  to  his  father's  throne,  the 
birth  of  her  children,  their  number,  and  the  fact  that 
three  of  her  sons  would  be  kings  in  succession,  that  two 
of  her  daughters  would  be  queens,  and  that  all  of  them 
were  destined  to  die  without  posterity.  This  prediction 
was  so  fully  realized  that  man}'  historians  have  assumed 
that  it  was  written  after  the  events. 

It  is  well  known  that  Nostradamus  took  to  the  cha- 
teau de  Chaumont,  whither  Catherine  went  after  the 
conspiracy  of  La  Renaudie,  a  woman  who  possessed  the 
faculty  of  reading  the  future.     Now,  during  the  reign 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  317 

of  Francois  II.,  vvliile  the  queen  liad  with  her  her  four 
sons,  all  young  and  in  good  health,  and  before  the 
marriage  of  her  daughter  EUzabeth  with  Philip  II.,  king 
of  Spain,  or  that  of  her  daugiiter  Marguerite  with  Henri 
de  Bourbon,  king  of  Navarre  (afterward  Henri  IV.), 
Nostradamus  and  this  woman  reiterated  the  circum- 
stances formerly  predicted  in  the  famous  nativit}*. 
This  woman,  who  was  no  doubt  gifted  with  second  sight, 
and  who  belonged  to  the  great  school  of  Seekers  of  the 
Great  Work,  though  the  particulars  of  her  life  and  name 
are  lost  to  history,  stated  that  the  last  crowned  child 
would  be  assassinated.  Having  placed  the  queen- 
mother  in  front  of  a  magic  mirror,  in  which  was  re- 
flected a  wheel  on  the  several  spokes  of  which  were 
the  faces  of  her  children,  the  sorceress  set  the  wheel  re- 
volving, and  Catherine  counted  the  number  of  revolu- 
tions which  it  made.  Each  revolution  was  for  each  son 
one  year  of  his  reign.  Henri  IV.  was  also  put  upon 
the  wheel,  which  then  made  twenty-four  rounds,  and  the 
woman  (some  historians  have  said  it  was  a  man)  told 
the  frightened  queen  that  Henri  de  Bourbon  would  be 
king  of  France  and  reign  that  number  of  years.  From 
that  time  forth  Catherine  de'  Medici  vowed  a  mortal 
hatred  to  the  man  whom  she  knew  would  succeed  the 
last  of  her  Valois  sons,  who  was  to  die  assassinated. 
Anxious  to  know  wiiat  her  own  death  would  be,  she  was 
warned  to  beware  of  Saint-Germain.  Supposing,  there- 
fore, that  she  would  be  either  put  to  death  or  imprisoned 
in  the  chdteau  de  Saint-Germain,  she  would  never  so 
much  as  put  her  foot  there,  although  that  residence  was 
far  more  convenient  for  her  political  plans,  owing  to  its 
proximit}'  to  Paris,  than  the  other  castles  to  which  she 


318  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

retreated  with  the  king  during  the  troubles.  When  she 
was  taken  suddenly  ill,  a  few  days  after  the  murder  of 
the  Due  de  Guise  at  Blois,  she  asked  the  name  of  the 
bishop  who  came  to  assist  her.  Being  told  it  was 
Saint-Germain,  she  cried  out,  "  I  am  dead!  "  and  did 
actual!}' die  on  the  morrow,  —  having,  moreover,  lived 
the  exact  number  of  years  given  to  her  by  all  her 
horoscopes. 

These  predictions,  which  were  known  to  the  Cardi- 
nal de  Lorraine,  who  regarded  them  as  witchcraft,  were 
now  in  process  of  realization.  P'rangois  II.  had  reigned 
his  two  revolutions  of  the  wheel,  and  Charles  IX.  was 
now  making  his  last  turn.  If  Catherine  said  the  strange 
words  whicli  histor}'  has  attributed  to  her  when  her  son 
Henri  started  for  Poland,  —  "  You  will  soon  return,"  — 
they  must  be  set  down  to  her  faith  in  occult  science,  and 
not  to  the  intention  of  poisoning  Charles  IX. 

Many  other  circumstances  corroborated  Catherine's 
faith  in  the  occult  sciences.  The  night  before  the  tour- 
nament at  which  Henri  II.  was  killed,  Catherine  saw 
the  fatal  blow  in  a  dream.  Her  astrological  council, 
then  composed  of  Nostradamus  and  the  two  Ruggieri, 
had  ahead}'  predicted  to  her  the  death  of  the  king. 
History  has  recorded  the  efforts  made  b}'  Catherine 
to  persuade  her  husband  not  to  enter  the  lists.  The 
prognostic,  and  the  dream  produced  bj'  the  prognostic, 
were  verified.  The  memoirs  of  the  day  relate  another 
fact  that  was  no  less  singular.  The  courier  who  an- 
nounced the  victory  of  Moncontour  arrived  in  the  night, 
after  riding  with  such  speed  that  he  killed  three  horses. 
The  queen-mother  was  awakened  to  receive  the  news, 
to  which  she  replied,  "  I  knew  it  already."     In  fact, 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  319 

as  Brantome  relates,  she  had  told  of  her  son's  triumph 
the  evenhig  before,  and  narrated  several  circumstances 
of  tlie  battle.  The  astrologer  of  the  house  of  Bourbon 
predicted  that  the  youngest  of  all  the  princes  descended 
from  Saint-Louis  (the  son  of  Antoine  de  Bourbon) 
would  ascend  the  throne  of  France.  This  prediction, 
related  b}'  Sully,  was  accomplished  in  the  precise  terms 
of  the  horoscope ;  which  led  Henri  IV.  to  say  that  by 
dint  of  lying  these  people  sometimes  hit  the  truth. 
However  that  may  be,  if  most  of  the  great  minds  of 
that  epoch  believed  in  this  vast  science,  —  called  Magic 
by  the  masters  of  judicial  astrolog}',  and  Sorcery-  by  the 
public,  —  they  were  justified  in  so  doing  by  the  fulfil- 
ment of  horoscopes. 

It  was  for  the  use  of  Cosmo  Ruggiero,  her  mathema- 
tician, astronomer,  and  astrologer,  that  Catherine  de* 
Medici  erected  the  tower  behind  the  Halle  aux  Bles,  — 
all  that  now  remains  of  the  hotel  de  Soissons.  Cosmo 
Ruggiero  possessed,  like  confessors,  a  m3'sterious  influ- 
ence, the  possession  of  which,  like  them  again,  sufficed 
him.  He  cherished  an  ambitious  thought  superior  to 
all  vulgar  ambitions.  This  man,  whom  dramatists  and 
romance-writers  depict  as  a  juggler,  owned  the  rich 
abbey  of  Saint-Mahe  in  Lower  Brittan}',  and  refused 
many  high  ecclesiastical  dignities;  the  gold  which  the 
superstitious  passions  of  the  age  poured  into  his  coffers 
sufficed  for  his  secret  enterprise  ;  and  the  queen's  hand, 
stretched  above  his  head,  preserved  every  hair  of  it 
from  danger. 


320  Catherine  de'  Medici. 


n. 

SCHEMES    AGAINST    SCHEMES. 

The  thirst  for  power  which  consumed  the  queen- 
mother,  her  desire  for  dominion,  was  so  great  that  in 
order  to  retain  it  she  had,  as  we  have  seen,  allied 
herself  to  the  Guises,  those  enemies  of  the  throne ;  to 
keep  the  reins  of  power,  now  obtained,  within  her 
hands,  she  was  using  every  means,  even  to  the  sacrifice 
of  her  friends  and  that  of  her  children.  This  woman, 
of  whom  one  of  her  enemies  said  at  her  death,  ''  It  is 
more  than  a  queen,  it  is  monarchy  itself  that  has  died," 
—  this  woman  could  not  exist  without  the  intrigues  of 
government,  as  a  gambler  can  live  only  b}'  the  emotions 
of  play.  Althougli  she  was  an  Italian  of  the  voluptuous 
race  of  the  Medici,  the  Calvinists  who  calumniated  her 
never  accused  her  of  having  a  lover.  A  great  admirer 
of  the  maxim,  ''  Divide  to  reign,"  she  had  learned  the 
art  of  perpetually  pitting  one  force  against  another. 
No  sooner  had  she  grasped  the  reins  of  power  than  she 
was  forced  to  keep  up  dissensions  in  order  to  neutral- 
ize the  strength  of  two  rival  houses,  and  thus  save 
the  Crown.  Catherine  invented  the  game  of  political 
see-saw  (since  imitated  b}'  all  princes  who  find  them- 
selves in  a  like  situation),  by  instigating,  first  the 
Calvinists  against  the  Guises,  and  then  the  Guises 
against  the  Calvinists.     Next,  after  pitting  the  two 


Catherine  de   Medici.  321 

reliofions  aofainst  each  other  in  the  heart  of  the  nation, 
Catherine  instigated  the  Due  d'Anjou  aganist  liis 
brother  Charles  IX.  After  neutrahzing  events  h\  op- 
posing them  to  one  another,  she  neutralized  men,  by 
holdinsj  the  thread  of  all  their  interests  in  her  hands. 
But  so  fearful  a  game,  which  needs  the  head  of  a 
Louis  XI.  to  play  it,  draws  down  inevitably  the  hatred 
of  all  parties  upon  the  player,  who  condemns  himself 
forever  to  the  necessity  of  conquering ;  for  one  lost 
game  will  turn  every  selfish  interest  into  an  enemy. 

The  greater  part  of  the  reign  of  Charles  IX.  wit- 
nessed the  triumph  of  the  domestic  policy  of  this 
astonishing  woman.  What  adroit  persuasion  must 
Catherine  have  employed  to  have  obtained  the  com- 
mand of  the  armies  for  the  Due  d'Anjou  nnder  a  young 
and  brave  king,  tliirsting  for  glor}-,  capable  of  mili- 
tary achievement,  generous,  and  in  presence,  too,  of 
the  Connetable  de  Montmorenc}'.  In  the  e3'es  of  the 
statesmen  of  Europe  the  Due  d'Anjou  had  all  the 
honors  of  the  Saint-Bartholomew,  and  Charles  IX.  all 
the  odium.  After  inspiring  the  king  with  a  false  and 
secret  jealousy  of  his  brother,  she  used  that  passion  to 
wear  out  b}^  the  intrigues  of  fraternal  jealousy  the  really 
noble  qualities  of  Charles  IX.  Cypierre,  the  king's  first 
governor,  and  Am^ot,  his  first  tutor,  had  made  him  so 
great  a  man,  they  had  paved  the  way  for  so  noble  a 
reign,  that  the  queen-mother  began  to  hate  her  son  as 
soon  as  she  found  reason  to  fear  the  loss  of  the  power 
she  had  so  slowly  and  so  painfully  obtained.  On  these 
general  grounds  most  historians  have  believed  that 
Catherine  de'  Medici  felt  a  preference  for  Henri  III.  ; 
but  her  conduct  at  the  period  of  which  we  are  now 

21 


322  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

writing,  proves  the  absolute  indifference  of  her  heart 
toward  all  her  children. 

When  the  Due  d'Anjou  went  to  reign  in  Poland 
Catherine  was  deprived  of  the  instrument  by  which  she 
had  worked  to  keep  tlie  king's  passions  occupied  in 
domestic  intrigues,  which  neutralized  his  energy  in  other 
directions.  She  then  set  up  the  conspiracy  of  La  Mole 
and  Coconnas,  in  which  her  3'oungest  son,  the  Due 
d'Alen^on  (afterwards  Due  d'Anjou,  on  the  accession 
of  Henri  III.)  took  part,  lending  himself  very  willingl}' 
to  his  mother's  wishes,  and  displaying  an  ambition 
much  encouraged  by  his  sister  Marguerite,  then  queen  of 
Navarre.  This  secret  conspiracy  had  now  reached  the 
point  to  which  Catherine  sought  to  bring  it.  Its  object 
was  to  put  the  ^oung  duke  and  his  brother-in-law,  the 
king  of  Navarre,  at  the  head  of  the  Calvinists,  to  seize 
the  person  of  Charles  IX.,  and  imprison  that  king  with- 
out an  heir,  —  leaving  the  throne  to  the  Due  d'Alengon, 
whose  intention  it  was  to  establish  Calvinism  as  the 
religion  of  France.  Calvin,  as  we  have  already  said, 
had  obtained,  a  few  days  before  his  death,  the  reward 
lie  had  so  deeply  coveted,  —  the  Reformation  was  now 
called  Calvinism  in  his  honor. 

If  Le  Laboureur  and  other  sensible  writers  had  not 
already  proved  that  La  Mole  and  Coconnas,  —  arrested 
fifty  nights  after  the  da}'  on  which  our  present  history 
begins,  and  beheaded  the  following  April,  —  even,  we 
say,  if  it  had  not  been  made  historicall}'  clear  that  these 
men  were  the  victims  of  the  queen-mother's  polic}',  the 
part  which  Cosmo  Ruggiero  took  in  this  affair  would 
go  far  to  show  that  she  secretly'  directed  their  enter- 
prise.    Ruggiero,  against  whom   the   king   had   suspi- 


Catherine  de*  Medici.  323 

eions,  and  for  whom  he  cherished  a  hatred  the  motives 
of  which  we  are  about  to  explain,  was  incUided  in  the 
prosecution.  He  admitted  having  given  to  La  Mole  a 
wax  figure  representing  the  king,  wliicli  was  pierced 
through  the  heart  bj'  two  needles.  This  method  of 
casting  spells  constituted  a  crime,  which,  in  those  days, 
was  punished  by  death.  It  presents  one  ol  the  most 
startling  and  infernal  images  of  hatred  that  humanity 
could  invent ;  it  pictures  admirably'  the  magnetic  and 
terrible  working  in  the  occult  world  of  a  constant  malev- 
olent desire  surrounding  the  person  doomed  to  death ; 
the  effects  of  which  on  the  person  are  exhibited  b^'  the 
figure  of  wax.  The  law  in  those  days  thought,  and 
thought  justlj',  that  a  desire  to  which  an  actual  form 
was  given  should  be  regarded  as  a  crime  of  Use  majeste, 
Charles  IX.  demanded  the  death  of  Ruggiero ;  Cathe- 
rine, more  powerful  than  her  son,  obtanied  from  the 
Parliament,  through  the  young  counsellor,  Lecamus,  a 
commutation  of  the  sentence,  and  Cosmo  was  sent  to 
the  galleys.  The  following  year,  on  the  death  of  the 
king,  he  was  pardoned  b^^  a  decree  of  Henri  III.,  who 
restored  his  pension,  and  received  him  at  court. 

But,  to  return  now  to  the  moment  of  which  we  are 
writing,  Catherine  had,  by  this  time,  struck  so  man}' 
blows  on  the  heart  of  her  son  that  he  was  eagerly  desu'- 
ous  of  casting  off  her  yoke.  During  the  absence  of 
Marie  Touchet,  Charles  IX.,  deprived  of  his  usual  occu- 
pation, had  taken  to  observing  everj'thing  about  him. 
He  cleverl}'  set  traps  for  the  persons  in  whom  he  trusted 
most,  in  order  to  test  their  fidelit}-.  He  spied  on  his 
mother's  actions,  concealing  from  her  all  knowledge  of 
his  own,  employing  for  this  deception  the  evil  qualities 


324  Catherine  de   Medici, 

she  had  fostered  in  him.  Consumed  by  a  desire  to 
blot  out  the  horror  excited  in  France  by  the  Saint- 
Bartholomew,  he  busied  himself  actively  in  public  af- 
fairs ;  he  presided  at  the  Council,  and  tried  to  seize  the 
reins  of  government  by  well-laid  schemes.  Though  the 
queen-mother  endeavored  to  check  these  attempts  of 
her  son  by  employing  all  the  means  of  influence  over 
his  mind  which  her  maternal  authoritv  and  a  Ions  habit 
of  domineering  gave  her,  his  rush  into  distrust  was  so 
vehement  that  he  went  too  far  at  the  first  bound  ever  to 
return  from  it.  The  day  on  which  his  mother's  speech 
to  the  king  of  Poland  was  reported  to  him,  Charles  IX., 
conscious  of  his  failing  health,  conceived  the  most  hor- 
rible suspicions,  and  when  such  thoughts  take  posses- 
sion of  the  mind  of  a  son  and  a  king  nothing  can 
remove  them.  In  fact,  on  his  deathbed,  at  the  moment 
when  he  confided  his  wife  and  daughter  to  Henri  IV.,  he 
began  to  put  the  latter  on  his  guard  against  Catherine, 
so  that  she  cried  out  passionately,  endeavoring  to  si- 
lence him,  ''  Do  not  say  that,  monsieur !  '^ 

Though  Charles  IX.  never  ceased  to  show  her  the 
outward  respect  of  which  she  was  so  tenacious  that 
she  would  never  call  the  kings  her  sons  anything  but 
"  Monsieur,'*  the  queen-mother  had  detected  in  her 
son's  manner  during  the  last  few^  months  an  ill-dis- 
guised purpose  of  vengeance.  But  clever  indeed  must 
be  the  man  who  counted  on  taking  Catherine  un- 
awares. She  held  read}'  in  her  hand  at  this  moment 
the  conspirac}^  of  the  Duke  d'Alengon  and  La  Mole,  in 
order  to  counteract,  hy  another  fi-aternal  struggle,  the 
efforts  Charles  IX.  was  making  toward  emancipation. 
But,  before  employing  this  means,  she  wanted  to  re- 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  325 

move  his  distrust  of  her,  which  would  render  impos- 
sible their  future  reconcihation  ;  for  was  he  like!}'  to 
restore  power  to  the  hands  of  a  mother  whom  he 
thought  capable  of  poisoning  him?  She  felt  herself 
at  this  moment  ia  such  serious  danger  that  slie  had 
sent  for  Strozzi,  her  relation  and  a  soldier  noted  for 
his  promptitude  of  action.  She  took  counsel  in  secret 
with  Birago  and  the  two  Gondis,  and  never  did  she 
so  frequently'  consult  her  oracle,  Cosmo  Ruggiero,  as 
at  the  present  crisis. 

Though  the  habit  of  dissimulation,  together  with  ad- 
vancing age,  had  given  the  queen-mother  that  well- 
known  abbess  face,  with  its  haughty  and  macerated 
mask,  expressionless  yet  full  of  depth,  inscrutable  yet 
vigilant,  remarked  by  all  who  have  studied  her  por- 
trait, the  courtiers  now  observed  some  clouds  on  her 
icy  countenance.  No  sovereign  was  ever  so  imposing 
as  this  woman  from  the  day  when  she  succeeded  in 
restraining  the  Guises  after  the  death  of  Francois  II. 
Her  black  velvet  cap,  made  with  a  point  upon  the  fore- 
head (for  she  never  relinquished  her  widow's  mourning) 
seemed  a  species  of  feminine  cowl  around  the  cold,  impe- 
rious face,  to  which,  however,  she  knew  how  to  give,  at 
the  right  moment,  a  seductive  Italian  charm.  Cath- 
erine de'  Medici  was  so  well  made  that  she  was  accused 
of  inventing  side-saddles  to  show  the  shape  of  her  legs, 
which  were  absolutel}-  perfect.  Women  followed  her 
example  in  this  respect  throughout  Europe,  which  even 
then  took  its  fashions  from  France.  Those  who  desire 
to  bring  this  grand  figure  befoi-e  their  minds  will  find 
that  the  scene  now  taking  place  in  the  brown  hall  of  the 
Louvre  presents  it  in  a  striking  aspect. 


326  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

The  two  queens,  different  in  spirit,  in  beaut}-,  in 
dress,  and  now  estranged,  —  one  naive  and  thoughtful, 
the  other  thoughtful  and  gravely  abstracted,  —  were  far 
too  preoccupied  to  think  of  giving  the  order  awaited  by 
the  courtiers  for  the  amusements  of  the  evening.  The 
carefully  concealed  drama,  played  for  the  last  six 
months  b}*  the  mother  and  son  was  more  than  suspected 
b}'  man}'  of  the  courtiers ;  but  the  Italians  were  watch- 
ing it  with  special  anxiety,  for  Catherine's  failure  in- 
volved their  ruin. 

During  this  evening  Charles  IX.,  wear}-  with  the 
day's  hunting,  looked  to  be  forty  years  old.  He  had 
reached  the  last  stages  of  the  malady  of  which  he  died, 
the  symptoms  of  which  were  such  that  many  reflecting 
persons  were  justified  in  thinking  that  he  was  poisoned. 
According  to  de  Thou  (the  Tacitus  of  the  Valois)  the 
surgeons  found  suspicious  spots  —  ex  causa  incognita 
reperti  livores  —  on  his  body.  Moreover,  his  funeral 
was  even  more  neglected  than  that  of  Fran9ois  II.  The 
body  was  conducted  from  Saint-Lazare  to  Saint-Denis 
by  Erantome  and  a  few  archers  of  the  guard  under 
command  of  the  Comte  de  Solern.  This  circumstance, 
coupled  with  the  supposed  hatred  of  the  mother  to  the 
son,  may  or  may  not  give  color  to  de  Thou's  supposi- 
tion, but  it  proves  how  little  affection  Catherine  felt  for 
any  of  her  children,  —  a  want  of  feeling  which  may  be 
explained  by  her  implicit  faith  in  the  predictions  of  judi- 
cial astrology.  This  woman  was  unable  to  feel  affec- 
tion for  the  instruments  which  were  destined  to  fail  her. 
Henri  III.  was  the  last  king  under  whom  her  reign  of 
power  was  to  last ;  that  was  the  sole  consideration  of 
her  heart  and  mind. 


Catherine  de*  Medici,  327 

111  these  days,  however,  we  can  readily  believe  that 
Charles  IX.  died  a  natural  death.  His  excesses,  his 
manner  of  life,  the  sudden  development  of  his  faculties, 
his  last  spasmodic  attempt  to  recover  the  reins  of  power, 
his  desire  to  live,  the  abuse  of  his  vital  strength,  his 
final  sufferings  and  last  pleasures,  all  prove  to  an  im- 
partial mind  that  he  died  of  consumption,  a  disease 
scarceh^  studied  at  that  time,  and  ver}'  little  understood, 
the  symptoms  of  which  might,  not  unnatui*ally,  lead 
Charles  IX.  to  believe  himself  poisoned.  The  real 
poison  which  his  mother  gave  him  was  in  the  fatal  coun- 
sels of  the  courtiers  whom  she  placed  about  him,  —  men 
who  led  him  to  waste  his  intellectual  as  well  as  his 
physical  vigor,  thus  bringing  on  a  malady  which 
was  purely  fortuitous  and  not  constitutional.  Under 
these  harrowing  circumstances,  Charles  IX.  displayed  a 
gloomy  majesty  of  demeanor  which  was  not  unbecom- 
ing to  a  king.  The  solemnity  of  his  secret  thoughts 
was  reflected  on  his  face,  the  olive  tones  of  which  he 
inherited  from  his  mother.  This  ivor}'  pallor,  so  fine 
hy  candlelight,  so  suited  to  the  expression  of  melan- 
choly thought,  brought  out  vigorously  the  fire  of  the 
blue-black  e3'es,  which  gazed  from  their  thick  and  heavy 
lids  with  the  keen  perception  our  fancy  lends  to  kings, 
their  color  being  a  cloak  for  dissimulation.  Those 
eyes  were  terrible,  —  especially  from  the  movement 
of  their  brows,  which  he  could  raise  or  lower  at  will  on 
his  bald,  high  forehead.  His  nose  was  broad  and  long, 
thick  at  the  end,  —  the  nose  of  a  lion ;  his  ears  were 
large,  his  hair  sandy,  his  lips  blood-red,  like  those  of 
all  consumptives,  the  upper  lip  thin  and  sarcastic,  the 
lower  one  firm,  and  full  enough  to  give  an  impression 


328  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

of  the  noblest  qualities  of  the  heart.  The  wrinkles  of 
his  brow,  the  youth  of  which  was  killed  by  dreadful 
cares,  inspired  the  strongest  interest;  remorse,  caused 
by  the  uselessness  of  the  Saint  Bartholomew,  accounted 
for  some,  but  there  were  two  others  on  that  face  which 
would  have  been  eloquent  indeed  to  any  student  wh.>se 
premature  genius  had  led  him  to  divine  the  principles  of 
modern  physiolog}^  These  wrinkles  made  a  deepl}'  in- 
dented furrow  going  from  each  cheek-bone  to  each  cor- 
ner of  the  mouth,  revealing  the  inward  efforts  of  an 
organization  wearied  by  the  toil  of  thought  and  the 
violent  excitements  of  the  bod}'.  Charles  IX.  was 
worn-out.  If  polic}'  did  not  stifle  remorse  in  the  breasts 
of  those  who  sit  beneath  the  purple,  the  queen-mother, 
looking  at  her  own  work,  would  surely  have  felt  it.  Had 
Catherine  foreseen  the  effect  of  her  intrigues  upon  her 
son,  would  she  have  recoiled  from  them  ?  What  a  fear- 
ful spectacle  was  this  !  A  king  born  vigorous,  and  now 
so  feeble  ;  a  mind  powerfully  tempered,  shaken  by  dis- 
trust ;  a  man  clothed  with  authoritj',  conscious  of  no 
support ;  a  firm  mind  brought  to  the  pass  of  having 
lost  all  confidence  in  itself!  His  warlike  valor  had 
changed  by  degrees  to  ferocit}' ;  his  discretion  to  deceit ; 
the  refined  and  delicate  love  of  a  Valois  was  now  a 
mere  quenchless  desire  for  pleasure.  This  perverted 
and  misjudged  great  man,  with  all  the  man}'  facets  of  a 
noble  soul  worn-out,  —  a  king  without  power,  a  gener- 
ous heart  without  a  friend,  dragged  hither  and  thither 
b}'  a  thousand  conflicting  intrigues,  —  presented  the  mel- 
ancholy^ spectacle  of  a  youth,  only  twent3'-four  years 
old,  disillusioned  of  life,  distrusting  everybody  and 
everything,  now  resolving  to  risk  all,  even  his  life,  on  a 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  329 

last  effort.  For  some  time  past  he  had  fully  understood 
his  roj'al  mission,  his  power,  his  resources,  and  the 
obstacles  which  his  mother  opposed  to  the  pacification 
of  the  kingdom  ;  but  alas !  this  light  now  burned  in  a 
shattered  lantern. 

Two  men,  whom  Charles  IX.  loved  sufHcienth'  to  pro- 
tect under  circumstances  of  great  danger,  — Jean  Chap- 
elain,  his  physician,  whom  he  saved  from  the  Saint 
Bartholomew,  and  Ambroise  Pare,  with  whom  he  went 
to  dine  when  Fare's  enemies  were  accusing  him  of  in- 
tending to  poison  the  king,  —  had  arrived  this  evening 
in  haste  from  the  provinces,  recalled  by  the  queen- 
mother.  Both  were  watching  their  master  anxiously. 
A  few  courtiers  spoke  to  them  in  a  low  voice  ;  but  the 
men  of  science  made  guarded  answers,  carefully  con- 
cealing the  fatal  verdict  which  was  in  their  minds. 
Every  now  and  then  the  king  would  raise  his  heavy 
e3'elids  and  give  his  mother  a  furtive  look  which  he 
tried  to  conceal  from  those  about  him.  Suddenly  he 
sprang  up  and  stood  before  the  fireplace. 

''  Monsieur  de  Chiverni,"  he  said  abruptly,  "  why  do 
you  keep  the  title  of  chancellor  of  Anjou  and  Poland  ? 
Are  you  in  our  service,  or  in  that  of  our  brother?  " 

"I  am  all  3'ours,  sire,"  replied  Chiverni,  bowing  low. 

^'  Then  come  to  me  to-morrow ;  I  intend  to  send  you 
to  Spain.  Very  strange  things  are  happening  at  the 
court  of  Madrid,  gentlemen." 

The  king  looked  at  his  wife  and  flung  himself  back 
into  his  chair. 

"  Strange  things  are  happening  everywhere,"  said 
the  Marechal  de  Tavannes,  one  of  the  friends  of  the 
king's  3'outh,  in  a  low  voice. 


330  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

The  king  rose  again  and  led  this  companion  of  his 
youthful  pleasures  apart  into  the  embrasure  of  the  win- 
dow at  the  corner  of  the  room,  saying,  when  they  were 
out  of  hearing  :  — 

"  I  want  you.  Kemain  here  when  the  others  go.  I 
shall  know  to-night  whether  you  are  for  me  or  against 
me.  Don't  look  astonished.  I  am  about  to  burst  my 
bonds.  My  mother  is  the  cause  of  all  the  evil  about 
me.  Three  months  hence  I  shall  be  king  indeed,  or 
dead.  Silence,  if  you  value  3'our  life !  You  will  have 
m}'  secret,  3'ou  and  Solern  and  Villeroy  oiAy,  If  it  is 
betra\'ed,  it  will  be  by  one  of  3'ou  three.  Don't  keep 
near  me ;  go  and  pay  3'our  court  to  m}^  mother.  Tell 
her  I  am  dying,  and  that  you  don't  regret  it,  for  I  am 
onl}^  a  poor  creature." 

The  king  was  leaning  on  the  shoulder  of  his  old 
favorite,  and  pretending  to  tell  him  of  his  ailments,  in 
order  to  mislead  the  inquisitive  eyes  about  him  ;  then, 
not  wishing  to  make  his  aversion  too  visible,  he  went 
up  to  his  wife  and  mother  and  talked  with  them,  calling 
Birago  to  their  side. 

Just  then  Pinard,  one  of  the  secretaries  of  State, 
glided  like  an  eel  through  the  door  and  along  the  wall 
until  he  reached  the  queen-mother,  in  whose  ear  he  said 
a  few  words,  to  which  she  replied  by  an  affirmative 
sign.  The  king  did  not  ask  his  mother  the  meaning  of 
this  conference,  but  he  returned  to  his  seat  and  kept 
silence,  darting  terrible  looks  of  anger  and  suspicion 
all  about  him. 

This  little  circumstance  seemed  of  enormous  conse- 
quence in  the  e3'es  of  the  courtiers ;  and,  in  truth,  so 
marked   an   exercise  of  power  by  the  queen-mother, 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  331 

without  reference  to  the  king,  was  like  a  drop  of  water 
overflowing  the  cup.  Queen  Elizabeth  and  the  Com- 
tesse  de  Fiesque  now  retired,  but  the  king  paid  no  atten- 
tion to  their  movements,  though  the  queen-mother  rose 
and  attended  her  daughter-in-law  to  the  door ;  after 
which  the  courtiers,  understanding  that  their  presence 
was  unwelcome,  took  their  leave.  By  ten  o'clock  no 
one  remained  in  the  hall  but  a  few  intimates,  —  the  two 
Gondis,  Tavannes,  Solern,  Birago,  the  king,  and  the 
queen-mother. 

The  king  sat  plunged  in  the  blackest  melancholy. 
The  silence  was  oppressive.  Catherine  seemed  embar- 
rassed. She  wished  to  leave  the  room,  and  waited  for 
the  king  to  escort  her  to  the  door ;  but  he  still  contin- 
ued obstinately  lost  in  thought.  At  last  she  rose  to 
bid  him  good-night,  and  Charles  IX.  was  forced  to  do 
likewise.  As  she  took  his  arm  and  made  a  few  steps 
toward  the  door,  she  bent  to  his  ear  and  whispered  :  — 

"  Monsieur,  I  have  important  things  to  say  to  you." 

Passing  a  mirror  on  her  wa}',  she  glanced  into  it  and 
made  a  sign  with  her  eyes  to  the  two  Gondis,  which 
escaped  the  king's  notice,  for  he  was  at  the  moment 
exchanging  looks  of  intelligence  with  the  Comte  de 
Solern  and  Villero}^     Tavannes  was  thoughtful. 

''  Sire,"  said  the  latter,  coming  out  of  his  revery, 
"I  think  you  are  royalh-  ennuyed  ;  don't  3'ou  ever  amuse 
yourself  now?  Vive  Dieu !  have  you  forgotten  the 
times  when  we  used  to  vagabondize  about  the  streets 
at  night?" 

''Ah!  those  were  the  good  old  times!"  said  the 
king,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Wbj'  not  bring  them  back  ?  "  said  Birago,  glancing 
significantly  at  the  Gondis  as  he  took  his  leave. 


332  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

"Yes,  I  always  think  of  those  days  with  pleasure," 
said  Albert  de  Gondi,  Due  de  Retz. 

"  I'd  like  to  see  you  on  the  roofs  once  more,  mon- 
sieur le  due,"  remarked  Tavannes.  "  Damned  Italian 
cat !  I  wish  he  might  break  his  neck  !  "  he  added  in  a 
whisper  to  the  king. 

"  I  don't  know  which  of  us  two  could  climb  the 
quickest  in  these  days,"  replied  de  Gondi ;  "but  one 
thing  I  do  know,  that  neither  of  us  fears  to  die." 

*'  Well,  sire,  will  you  start  upon  a  frolic  in  the  streets 
to-night,  as  you  did  in  the  days  of  your  youth?''  said 
the  other  Gondi,  master  of  the  Wardrobe. 

The  days  of  his  youth !  so  at  twenty-four  j'ears  of 
age  the  wretched  king  seemed  no  longer  young  to  any 
one,  not  even  to  his  flatterers ! 

Tavannes  and  his  master  now  reminded  each  other, 
like  two  school-boys,  of  certain  pranks  they  had 
played  in  Paris,  and  the  evening's  amusement  was  soon 
arranged.  The  two  Italians,  challenged  to  climb  roofs, 
and  jump  from  one  to  another  across  alley's  and 
streets,  wagered  that  the}'  would  follow  the  king  wher- 
ever he  went.  They  and  Tavannes  went  off  to  change 
their  clothes.  The  Comte  de  Solern,  left  alone  with 
the  king,  looked  at  him  in  amazement.  Though  the 
worthy  German,  filled  with  compassion  for  the  hap- 
less position  of  the  king  of  France,  was  honor  and 
fidelit}^  itself,  he  was  certainly  not  quick  of  perception. 
Charles  IX.,  surrounded  by  hostile  persons,  unable  to 
trust  any  one,  not  even  his  wife  (who  had  been  guilty 
of  some  indiscretions,  unaware  as  she  was  that  his 
mother  and  his  servants  were  his  enemies),  had  been 
fortunate  enough  to  find  in  Monsieur  de  Solern  a  faith- 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  333 

fill  friend  in  whom  he  could  place  entire  confidence. 
Tavannes  and  Villero}^  were  trusted  with  only  a  part  of 
the  king's  secrets.  The  Comte  de  Solern  alone  knew 
the  wliole  of  the  plan  which  he  was  now  about  to  carry 
out.  This  devoted  friend  was  also  useful  to  his  master, 
in  possessing  a  body  of  discreet  and  affectionate  fol- 
lowers, who  blindl}^  obeyed  his  orders.  He  commanded 
a  detachment  of  the  archers  of  the  guards,  and  for  the 
last  few  days  he  had  been  sifting  out  the  men  who 
were  faithfully  attached  to  the  king,  in  order  to  make  a 
company  of  tried  men  when  the  need  came.  The  king 
took  thought  of  everj'thing. 

''Why  are  you  surprised,  Solern?"  he  said.  "You 
know  very  well  I  need  a  pretext  to  be  out  to-night.  It 
is  true,  I  have  Madame  de  Belleville,  but  this  is  better ; 
for  who  knows  whether  my  mother  does  not  hear  of  all 
that  goes  on  at  Marie's  ?  " 

Monsieur  de  Solern,  who  was  to  follow  the  king, 
asked  if  he  might  not  take  a  few  of  his  Germans  to 
patrol  the  streets,  and  Charles  consented.  About  eleven 
o'clock  the  king,  who  was  now  ver}'  gaj- ,  set  forth  with 
his  three  courtiers,  —  namely,  Tavannes  and  the  two 
Gondis. 

"  I  '11  go  and  take  m}'  little  Marie  b}'  surprise,"  said 
Charles  IX.  to  Tavannes,  ''as  we  pass  through  the  rue 
de  I'Autruche."  That  street  being  on  the  way  to  the  rue 
Saint-Honore,  it  would  have  been  strange  indeed  for 
the  king  to  pass  the  house  of  his  love  without  stopping. 

Looking  out  for  a  chance  of  mischief,  —  a  belated 
burgher  to  frighten,  or  a  watchman  to  thrash  —  the 
king  went  along  with  his  nose  in  the  air,  watching 
all  the  lighted  windows   to  see  what  was  happening, 


334  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

and  striving  to  hear  the  conversations.  But  alas !  he 
found  his  good  city  of  Paris  in  a  state  of  deplorable 
tranquilhty.  Suddenly-,  as  he  passed  the  house  of  a 
famous  perfumer  named  Rene,  who  supplied  the  court, 
the  king,  noticing  a  strong  light  from  a  window  in  the 
roof,  was  seized  by  one  of  those  apparently  hasty  in- 
spirations which,  to  some  minds,  suggest  a  previous 
intention. 

This  perfumer  was  stronglj-  suspected  of  curing  rich 
uncles  who  thought  themselves  ill.  The  court  laid  at 
his  door  the  famous  '^Elixir  of  Inheritance,"  and  even 
accused  him  of  poisoning  Jeanne  d'Albret,  mother 
of  Henri  of  Navarre,  who  was  buried  (in  spite  of 
Charles  IX.'s  positive  order)  without  her  head  being 
opened.  For  the  last  two  months  the  king  had  sought 
some  way  of  sending  a  spy  into  Rene's  laboratorj^  where, 
as  he  was  well  aware,  Cosmo  Ruggiero  spent  much 
time.  The  king  intended,  if  anything  suspicious  were 
discovered,  to  proceed  in  the  matter  alone,  without  the 
assistance  of  police  or  law,  with  whom,  as  he  well  knew, 
his  mother  would  counteract  him  hy  means  of  either 
corruption  or  fear. 

It  is  certain  that  during  the  sixteenth  centurj^, 
and  the  j'ears  that  preceded  and  followed  it,  poison- 
ing was  brought  to  a  perfection  unknown  to  modern 
chemistr\',  as  historj^  itself  will  prove.  Italy,  the 
cradle  of  modern  science,  was,  at  this  period,  the 
inventor  and  mistress  of  these  secrets,  many  of  which 
are  now  lost.  Hence  the  reputation  for  that  crime 
which  weighed  for  the  two  following  centuries  on  Italj'. 
Romance-writers  have  so  greatl}^  abused  it  that  wher- 
ever they  have  introduced  Italians  into  their  tales  they 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  335 

have  almost  always  made  them  play  the  part  of  assas- 
sins and  poisoners.^  If  Italy  then  had  the  traffic  in 
subtle  poisons  which  some  historians  attribute  to  her, 
we  should  remember  her  supremacy  in  the  art  of  toxi- 
cology, as  we  do  her  pre-eminence  in  all  other  human 
knowledge  and  art  in  which  she  took  the  lead  in  Europe. 
The  crimes  of  that  period  were  not  her  crimes  specially. 
She  served  the  passions  of  the  age,  just  as  she  built 
magnificent  edifices,  commanded  armies,  painted  noble 
frescos,  sang  romances,  loved  queens,  delighted  kings, 
devised  ballets  and  fetes,  and  ruled  all  policies.  The 
horrible  art  of  poisoning  reached  to  such  a  pitch  in 
Florence  that  a  woman,  dividing  a  peach  with  a  duke, 
using  a  golden  fruit-knife  with  one  side  of  its  blade 
poisoned,  ate  one  half  of  the  peach  herself  and  killed 
the  duke  with  the  other  half.  A  pair  of  perfumed 
gloves  were  known  to  have  infiltrated  mortal  illness 
through  the  pores  of  the  skin.  Poison  was  instilled 
into  bunches  of  natural  roses,  and  the  fragrance,  when 
inhaled,  gave  death.  Don  John  of  Austria  was  poi- 
soned, it  was  said,  by  a  pair  of  boots. 

Charles  IX.  had  good  reason  to  be  curious  in  the 
matter  ;  we  know  already-  the  dark  suspicions  and 
beliefs  which  now  prompted  him  to  surprise  the 
perfumer  Rene  at  his  work. 

The  old  fountain  at  the  corner  of  the  rue  de  TArb re- 
See,  which  has  since  been  rebuilt,  offered  every  facility 
for  the  royal  vagabonds  to  climb  upon  the  roof  of  a  house 
not  far  from  that  of  Rene,  which  the  king  wished  to 
visit.  Charles,  followed  hy  his  companions,  began  to 
ramble  over  the  roofs,  to  the  great  terror  of  the  burgh- 

1  Written  sixty-six  years  ago.  —  Tr. 


336  Catherine  de^  Medici, 

ers  awakened  by  the  tramp  of  these  false  thieves,  who 
called  to  them  in  saucy  language,  listened  to  their  talk, 
and  even  pretended  to  force  an  entrance.  When  the 
Italians  saw  the  king  and  Tavannes  threading  their 
way  among  the  roofs  of  the  house  next  to  that  of  Rene, 
Albert  de  Gondi  sat  down,  declaring  that  he  was  tired, 
and  his  brother  followed  his  example. 

"  So  much  the  better,"  thought  the  king,  glad  to 
leave  his  spies  behind  him. 

Tavannes  began  to  laugh  at  the  two  Florentines,  left 
sitting  alone  in  the  midst  of  deep  silence,  in  a  place 
where  they  had  nought  but  the  skies  above  them,  and 
the  cats  for  auditors.  But  the  brothers  made  use  of 
their  position  to  exchange  thoughts  they  would  not  dare 
to  utter  on  an}'  other  spot  in  the  world,  —  thoughts 
inspired  b}^  the  events  of  the  evening. 

''Albert,"  said  the  Grand-master  to  the  marechal, 
"  the  king  will  get  the  better  of  the  queen-mother;  we 
are  doing  a  foolish  thing  for  our  own  interests  to  sta}' 
by  those  of  Catherine.  If  we  go  over  to  the  king  now, 
when  he  is  searching  everywhere  for  support  against 
her  and  for  able  men  to  serve  him,  we  shall  not  be 
driven  awa}'  like  wild  beasts  when  the  queen-mother  is 
banished,  imprisoned,  or  killed." 

"  You  would  n't  get  far  with  such  ideas,  Charles," 
replied  the  marechal,  gravely.  ''  You'd  follow  the  king 
into  the  grave,  and  he  won't  live  long ;  he  is  ruined  b}' 
excesses.  Cosmo  Ruggiero  predicts  his  death  within 
a  year." 

*'  The  dying  boar  has  often  killed  the  huntsman," 
said  Charles  de  Gondi.  *'  This  conspirac}'  of  the  Due 
d'Alen^on,  the  king  of  Navarre,    and   the   Prince  de 


Catherine  de^  Medici.  337 

Conde,  with  whom  La  Mole  and  Coconnas  are  nego- 
tiating, is  more  dangerous  than  useful.  In  the  first 
place,  the  king  of  Navarre,  whom  the  queen- mother 
hoped  to  catch  in  the  ver^^  act,  distrusts  her,  and 
declines  to  run  his  head  into  the  noose.  He  means  to 
profit  by  the  conspiracy  without  taking  any  of  its  risks. 
Besides,  the  notion  now  is  to  put  the  crown  on  tlie  head 
of  the  Due  d'Alen9on,  who  has  turned  Calvinist." 

^''  Budelone!  but  don't  you  see  that  this  conspiracy 
enables  the  queen-mother  to  find  out  what  the  Hugue- 
nots can  do  with  the  Due  d'Alen9on,  and  what  the  king 
can  do  with  the  Huguenots?  —  for  the  king  is  even  now 
negotiating  with  them ;  but  he  'II  be  finely  pilloried 
to-morrow,  when  Catherine  reveals  to  him  the  counter- 
conspiracj"  which  will  neutralize  all  his  projects." 

''Ah!"  exclaimed  Charles  de  Gondi,  "  bv  dint  of 
profiting  by  our  advice  she 's  cleverer  and  stronger  than 
we  !     Well,  that 's  all  right." 

"All  right  for  the  Due  d'Anjou,  who  prefers  to  be 
king  of  France  rather  than  king  of  Poland ;  I  am 
going  now  to  explain  the  matter  to  him." 

"  When  do  you  start,  Albert?  " 

"  To-morrow.  I  am  ordered  to  accompany  the  king 
of  Poland  ;  and  I  expect  to  join  him  in  Venice,  where 
the  patricians  have  taken  upon  themselves  to  amuse 
and  delaj'  him." 

"  You  are  prudence  itself!  " 

"  Che  bestia  !  I  swear  to  3'ou  there  is  not  the 
slightest  danger  for  either  of  us  in  remaining  at  court. 
If  there  weire,  do  you  think  I  would  go  away?  I  should 
sta}^  by  the  side  of  our  kind  mistress." 

"Kind!"  exclaimed  the  Grand-master;    "she  is  a 

22 


338  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

woman  to  drop  all  her  instruments  the  moment  she 
finds  them  heavj'." 

"  O  coglione  !  you  pretend  to  be  a  soldier,  and  j'ou 
fear  death !  Every  business  has  its  duties,  and  we 
have  ours  in  makhig  our  fortune.  By  attaching  our- 
selves to  kings,  the  source  of  all  temporal  power  which 
protects,  elevates,  and  enriches  families,  we  are  forced 
to  give  them  as  devoted  a  love  as  that  which  burns  in 
the  heart  of  mart3'rs  toward  heaven.  We  must  suffer 
in  their  cause;  when  they  sacrifice  us  to  the  interests 
of  their  throne  we  may  perish,  for  we  die  as  much  for 
ourselves  as  for  them,  but  our  name  and  our  families 
perish  not.     Ecco  !  '* 

*'  You  are  right  as  to  yourself,  Albert ;  for  they  have 
given  you  the  ancient  title  and  duchy  of  de  Retz." 

"Now  listen  to  me,"  replied  his  brother.  ''The 
queen  hopes  much  from  the  cleverness  of  the  Ruggieri ; 
she  expects  them  to  bring  the  king  once  more  under 
her  control.  When  Charles  refused  to  use  Rene's  per- 
fumes any  longer  the  war}'  woman  knew  at  once  on 
whom  his  suspicions  really  rested.  But  who  can  tell 
the  schemes  that  are  in  his  mind  ?  Perhaps  he  is  only 
hesitating  as  to  what  fate  he  shall  give  his  mother ;  he 
hates  her,  3'ou  know.  He  said  a  few  words  about  it  to 
his  wife ;  she  repeated  them  to  Madame  de  Fiesque, 
and  Madame  de  Fiesque  told  the  queen-mother.  Since 
then  the  king  has  kept  awa}'  from  his  wife." 

"  The  time  has  come,"  said  Charles  de  Gondi. 

"  To  do  what?"  asked  the  marechal. 

"  To  lay  hold  of  the  king's  mind,"  replied  the  Grand- 
master, who,  if  he  was  not  so  much  in  the  queen's 
confidence  as  his  brother,  was  by  no  means  less  clear- 
sighted. 


I 


Catherine  de   Medici,  339 


"  Charles,  I  have  opened  a  great  career  to  you," 
said  his  brother  gravely.  ''If  you  wish  to  be  a  duke 
also,  be,  as  I  am,  the  accomplice  and  cat's-paw  of  our 
mistress ;  she  is  the  strongest  here,  and  she  will  con- 
tinue in  power.  Madame  de  Sauves  is  on  her  side, 
and  the  king  of  Navarre  and  the  Due  d'Alengon  are 
still  for  Madame  de  Sauves.  Catherine  holds  the  pair 
in  a  leash  under  Charles  IX.,  and  she  will  hold  tliem  in 
future  under  Henri  III.  God  grant  that  Henri  may  not 
prove  ungrateful ! " 

"How  so?" 

"  His  mother  is  doing  too  much  for  him." 

"  Hush !  what  noise  is  that  I  hear  in  the  rue  Saint- 
Honore?"  cried  the  Grand-master.  "  Listen  !  there  is 
some  one  at  Rene's  door  !  Don't  you  hear  the  footsteps 
of  many  men.     Can  they  have  arrested  the  Ruggieri  ?  " 

"  Ah,  diavolo  !  this  is  prudence  indeed.  The  king 
has  not  shown  his  usual  impetuosity.  But  where  will 
they  imprison  them  ?  Let  us  get  down  into  the  street 
and  see." 

The   two   brothers   reached   the   corner  of  the   rue 
de  I'Autruche  just  as  the  king  was  entering  the  house 
of  his  mistress,  Marie  Touchet.      By  the  light  of  the 
torches  which  the  concierge  carried,  they  distinguished 
Tavannes  and  the  two  Ruggieri. 

*'  Hey,  Tavannes  ! "  cried  the  grand-master,  running* 
after  the  king's  companion,  who  had  turned  and  was 
making  his  way  back  to  the  Louvre,  ''  What  happened 
to  you?" 

"  We  fell  into  a  nest  of  sorcerers  and  arrested  two, 
compatriots  of  yours,  who  maj'  perhaps  be  able  to  ex- 
plain to  the  minds  of  French  gentlemen  how  you,  who 


340  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

are  not  Frenchmen,  have  managed  to  lay  hands  on  two 
of  the  chief  offices  of  the  Crown,"  replied  Tavannes, 
half  jesting,  half  in  earnest. 

"But  the  king?"  inquired  the  Grand-master,  who 
cared  little  for  Tavannes' s  enmity. 

'-'-  He  stag's  with  his  mistress." 

'*  We  reached  our  present  distinction  through  an 
absolute  devotion  to  our  masters,  —  a  noble  course,  my 
dear  Tavannes,  which  I  see  that  you  also  have 
adopted,"  rephed  Albert  de  Gondi. 

The  three  courtiers  walked  on  in  silence.  At  the 
moment  when  thej^  parted,  on  meeting  their  servants 
who  then  escorted  them,  two  men  glided  swiftly  along 
the  walls  of  the  rue  de  1' Autruche.  These  men  were  the 
king  and  the  Comte  de  Solern,  who  soon  reached 
the  banks  of  the  Seine,  at  a  point  where  a  boat  and 
two  rowers,  carefully  selected  by  de  Solern,  awaited 
them.  In  a  very  few  moments  they  reached  the  other 
shore. 

''  My  mother  has  not  gone  to  bed,"  cried  the  king. 
"She  will  see  us;  we  chose  a  bad  place  for  the 
interview." 

"  She  will  think  it  a  duel,"  replied  Solern  ;  "  and 
she  cannot  possibly  distinguish  who  we  are  at  this 
distance." 

"  Well,  let  her  see  me  !  "  exclaimed  Charles  IX.  "  I 
am  resolved  now  !  " 

The  king  and  his  confidant  sprang  ashore  and  walked 
quickl}'  in  the  direction  of  the  Fre-aux-Clercs.  When 
they  reached  it  the  Comte  de  Solern,  preceding  the 
king,  met  a  man  who  was  evidentl}'  on  the  w^atch,  and 
with  whom  he  exchanged  a  few  words  ;  the  man  then 


'^»      r*ni-\vc 


Catherine  de    Medici.  341 


retired  to  a  distance.  Presentl}'  two  other  men,  who 
seemed  to  be  princes  b}'  the  marks  of  respect  which 
the  first  man  paid  to  them,  left  the  place  where  they 
were  evidently  hiding  behind  the  broken  fence  of  a 
field,  and  approached  the  king,  to  whom  they  bent  the 
knee.  But  Charles  IX.  raised  them  before  they  touched 
the  ground,  saying  :  — 

••'  No  ceremon}^  we  are  all  gentlemen  here." 

A  venerable  old  man,  who  might  have  been  taken  for 
the  Chancelier  de  I'Hdpital,  had  the  latter  not  died  ia 
the  preceding  year,  now  joined  the  three  gentlemen,  all 
four  walking  rapidly  so  as  to  reach  a  spot  where  their 
conference  could  not  be  overheard  by  their  attendants. 
The  Comte  de  Solern  followed  at  a  slight  distance  to 
keep  watch  over  the  king.  That  faithful  servant  was 
filled  with  a  distrust  not  shared  by  Charles  IX. ,  a  man 
to  whom  life  was  now  a  burden.  He  was  the  onl}'  per- 
son on  the  king's  side  who  witnessed  this  mysterious 
conference,  which  presently  became  animated. 

"  Sire,*'  said  one  of  the  new-comers,  ''the  Connetable 
de  Montmorenc}',  the  closest  friend  of  the  king  your 
father,  agreed  with  the  Marechal  de  Saint- Andre  in  de- 
claring that  Madame  Catherine  ought  to  be  sewn  up  in 
a  sack  and  flung  into  the  river.  If  that  had  been  done 
then,  many  worthy  persons  would  be  still  alive." 

''  I  have  enough  executions  on  m}'  conscience,  mon- 
sieur," replied  the  king. 

''  But,  sire,"  said  the  youngest  of  the  four  personages, 
"  if  you  merely  banish  her,  from  the  depths  of  her 
exile  Queen  Catherine  will  continue  to  stir  up  strife, 
and  to  find  auxiliaries.  We  have  everything  to  fear 
from  the  Guises,  who,  for  the  last  nine  years,  have 


342  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

schemed  for  a  vast  Catholic  alliance,  in  the  secret  of 
which  your  Majesty  is  not  included ;  and  it  threatens 
your  throne.  This  alliance  was  invented  b}"  Spain, 
which  will  never  renounce  its  project  of  destroying  the 
boundary'  of  the  Pyrenees.  Sire,  Calvinism  will  save 
France  b}-  setting  up  a  moral  barrier  between  her  and  a 
nation  which  covets  the  empire  of  the  world.  If  the 
queen-mother  is  exiled,  she  will  turn  for  help  to  Spain 
and  to  the  Guises." 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  king,  "  know  this,  if  by  3'our 
help  peace  without  distrust  is  once  established,  1  will 
take  upon  myself  the  duty  of  making  all  subjects  trem- 
ble. Tete-Dieu!  it  is  time  indeed  for  royalty  to  assert 
itself  M}'  mother  is  right  in  that,  at  an}^  rate.  You 
ought  to  know  that  it  is  to  3'our  interest  as  well  as 
mine,  for  3'Our  hands,  3'Our  fortunes  depend  upon  our 
throne.  If  religion  is  overthrown,  the  hands  you  allow 
to  do  it  will  be  laid  next  upon  the  throne  and  then  upon 
you.  I  no  longer  care  to  fight  ideas  with  weapons  that 
cannot  touch  them.  Let  us  see  now  if  Protestantism  will 
make  progress  when  left  to  itself;  above  all,  I  would 
like  to  see  with  whom  and  what  the  spirit  of  that  fac- 
tion will  wrestle.  The  admiral,  God  rest  his  soul !  was 
not  my  enemy ;  he  swore  to  me  to  restrain  the  revolt 
within  spiritual  limits,  and  to  leave  the  ruling  of  the 
kingdom  to  the  monarch,  his  master,  with  submissive 
subjects.  Gentlemen,  if  the  matter  be  still  within  3'our 
power,  set  that  example  now ;  help  your  sovereign  to 
put  down  a  spirit  of  rebellion  which  takes  tranquillity 
from  each  and  all  of  us.  War  is  depriving  us  of  rev- 
enue ;  it  is  ruining  this  kingdom.  I  am  weary  of  these 
constant  troubles ;    so  weary,  that  if  it  is  absolutely 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  343 

necessary  I  will  sacrifice  my  mother.  Nay,  I  will  go 
farther ;  I  will  keep  an  equal  number  of  Protestants 
and  Catholics  about  me,  and  I  will  hold  the  axe  of 
Louis  XL  above  their  heads  to  force  them  to  be  on 
good  terms.  If  the  Messieurs  de  Guise  plot  a  Holy 
Alliance  to  attack  our  crown,  the  executioner  shall 
begin  with  their  heads.  I  see  the  miseries  of  my  peo- 
ple, and  I  will  make  short  work  of  the  great  lords  who 
attempt  to  bring  more  trouble  into  the  kingdom.  I 
care  little  for  consciences,  —  let  them  hold  what  opin- 
ions they  like  ;  what  I  want  in  future  is  submissive  sub- 
jects, who  will  work,  according  to  my  will,  for  the  pros- 
perity of  the  State.  Gentlemen,  1  give  you  ten  da3's 
to  negotiate  with  your  friends,  to  break  off  your  plots, 
and  to  return  to  me  who  will  be  your  father.  If  you  re- 
fuse you  will  see  great  changes.  I  shall  use  the  mass  of 
the  people,  who  will  rise  at  my  voice  against  the  lords. 
I  will  make  m3'self  a  king  who  pacificates  his  kingdom 
by  striking  down  those  who  are  more  powerful  even  than 
3'ou,  and  who  dare  def}^  him.  If  the  troops  fail  me,  I 
liave  my  brother  of  Spain,  on  whom  I  shall  call  to  defend 
our  menaced  thrones,  and  if  I  lack  a  minister  to  carry 
out  my  will,  he  can  lend  me  the  Duke  of  Alba." 

"  But  in  that  case,  sire,  we  should  have  Germans  to 
oppose  to  your  Spaniards,"  said  one  of  his  hearers. 

"  Cousin,"  replied  Charles  IX.,  coldl}',  "  my  wife's 
name  is  Elizabeth  of  Austria ;  support  might  fail  3'ou 
on  the  German  side.  But,  for  Heaven's  sake,  let  us 
fight,  if  fight  we  must,  alone,  without  the  help  of  for- 
eigners. You  are  the  object  of  my  mother's  hatred, 
and  you  stand  near  enough  to  me  to  be  m3^  second  in 
the  duel  I  am  about  to  fight  with  her ;  well  then,  listen 


344  Catherine  de^  Medici, 

to  what  I  now  sa}'.  You  seem  to  me  so  worthy  of  con- 
fidence that  I  offer  3'ou  the  post  of  connetable  /  you 
will  not  betray  me  like  the  other.'' 

The  prince  to  whom  Charles  IX.  had  addressed  him- 
self, struck  his  hand  into  that  of  the  king,  exclaiming : 

"  Ventre-saint-gris  !  brother  ;  this  is  enough  to  make 
me  forget  many  wrongs.  But,  sire,  the  head  cannot 
march  without  the  tail,  and  ours  is  a  long  tail  to  drag. 
Give  me  more  than  ten  daj's  ;  we  want  at  least  a  month 
to  make  our  friends  hear  reason.  At  the  end  of  that 
time  we  shall  be  masters." 

"A  month,  so  be  it!  My  onl}'  negotiator  will  be 
Villeroy ;  trust  no  one  else,  no  matter  what  is  said  to 
you." 

''  One  month,"  echoed  the  other  seigneurs,  "  that  is 
sufficient." 

''Gentlemen,  we  are  five,''  said  the  king,  —  ''five 
men  of  honor.  If  any  betrayal  takes  place,  we  shall 
know  on  whom  to  avenge  it." 

The  three  strangers  kissed  the  hand  of  Charles  IX. 
and  took  leave  of  him  with  ever}^  mark  of  the  utmost 
respect.  As  the  king  recrossed  the  Seine,  four  o'clock 
was  ringing  from  the  clock-tower  of  the  Louvre.  Lights 
were  in  the  queen-mother's  room  ;  she  had  not  yet  gone 
to  bed. 

"  My  mother  is  still  on  the  watch,"  said  Charles  to 
the  Comte  de  Solern. 

"  She  has  her  forge  as  you  have  3'ours,'^  remarked 
the  German. 

"  Dear  count,  what  do  you  think  of  a  king  who  is 
reduced  to  become  a  conspirator?''  said  Charles  IX., 
bitterly,  after  a  pause. 


Catherine  de^  Medici,  345 

"I  think,  sire,  that  if  you  would  allow  me  to  fling 
that  woman  into  the  river,  as  your  young  cousin  said, 
France  would  soon  be  at  peace." 

"  What !  a  parricide  in  addition  to  the  Saint-Barthol- 
omew, count?*'  cried  the  king.  "No,  no!  I  will  exile 
her.  Once  fallen,  my  mother  will  no  longer  have  either 
servants  or  partisans." 

"Well,  then,  sire,"  replied  the  Comte  de  Solern, 
"  orive  me  the  order  to  arrest  her  at  once  and  take  her 
out  of  the  kingdom  ;  for  to-morrow  she  will  have  forced 
3'ou  to  change  3'our  mind." 

"  Come  to  my  forge,"  said  tiie  king,  ^^  no  one  can 
overhear  us  there  ;  besides,  I  don't  want  my  mother  to 
suspect  the  capture  of  the  Ruggieri.  If  she  knows  I 
am  in  m}^  work-shop  she  '11  suppose  nothing,  and  we  can 
consult  about  the  proper  measures  for  her  arrest." 

As  the  king  entered  a  lower  room  of  the  palace, 
which  he  used  for  a  workshop,  he  called  his  companion's 
attention  to  the  forge  and  his  implements  with  a  laugh. 

"  I  don't  believe,"  he  said,  "  among  all  the  kings  that 
France  will  ever  have,  there  '11  be  another  to  take  pleas- 
ure in  such  work  as  that.  But  when  I  am  really  king, 
I  '11  forge  no  swords ;  they  shall  all  go  back  into  their 
scabbards." 

"Sire,"  said  the  Comte  de  Solern,  "the  fatigues 
of  tennis  and  hunting,  your  toil  at  this  forge,  and  — 
if  I  may  say  it —  love,  are  chariots  which  the  devil  is 
offering  you  to  get  the  faster  to  Saint-Denis." 

"  Solern,''  said  the  king,  in  a  piteous  tone,  "  if  3'ou 
knew  the  fire  they  have  put  into  m}"  soul  and  body ! 
nothing  can  quench  it.  Are  3'OU  sure  of  the  men  who 
are  guarding  the  Ruggieri?" 


346  Catherine  de*  Medici, 

' '  As  sure  as  of  mj'self." 

"  Ver}'  good;  then,  during  tliis  coming  da}"  I  shall 
take  my  own  course.  Think  of  the  proper  means  of 
making  the  arrest,  and  I  will  give  3'ou  m}"  final  orders 
by  five  o'clock  at  Madame  de  Belleville's." 

As  the  first  rays  of  dawn  were  struggling  with  the 
lights  of  the  workshop,  Charles  IX.,  left  alone  by  the 
departure  of  the  Comte  de  Solern,  heard  the  door  of  the 
apartment  turn  on  its  hinges,  and  saw  his  mother  stand- 
ing within  it  in  the  dim  light  like  a  phantom.  Though 
ver}'  nervous  and  impressible,  the  king  did  not  quiver, 
albeit,  under  the  circumstances  in  which  he  then  stood, 
this  apparition  had  a  certain  air  of  myster}^  and  horror. 

"  Monsieur,"  she  said,  "  you  are  killing  yourself.'^ 

"  I  am  fulfilling  my  horoscope,"  he  replied  with  a 
bitter  smile.  "  But  you,  madame,  3'ou  appear  to  be  as 
earlj'  as  I." 

"We  have  both  been  up  all  night,  monsieur ;  but 
■with  ver}^  different  intentions.  While  you  have  been 
conferring  with  3'our  worst  enemies  in  the  open  fields, 
concealing  3'our  acts  from  3'our  mother,  assisted  by 
Tavannes  and  the  Gondis,  with  whom  you  have  been 
scouring  the  town,  I  have  been  reading  despatches 
which  contained  the  proofs  of  a  terrible  conspirac}"  in 
which  your  brother,  the  Due  d'Alen^on,  your  brother- 
in-law,  the  king  of  Navarre,  the  Prince  de  Conde,  and 
half  the  nobles  of  30ur  kingdom  are  taking  part.  Their 
purpose  is  nothing  less  than  to  take  the  crown  from  your 
head  and  seize  your  person.  Those  gentlemen  have 
alread}'  fift}-  thousand  good  troops  behind  them." 

"  Bah  !  "  exclaimed  the  king,  incredulousl3^ 

''Your  brother  has  turned  Huguenot,"  she  continued. 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  347 

''  My  brother !  gone  over  to  the  Huguenots  !  '*  cried 
Charles,  brandishing  the  piece  of  iron  which  he  held  in 
his  hand. 

''  Yes  ;  the  Due  d'Alen^on,  Huguenot  at  heart,  will 
soon  be  one  before  the  e3'es  of  the  world.  Your  sister, 
the  queen  of  Navarre,  has  almost  ceased  to  love  you  ; 
she  cares  more  for  the  Due  d'Alen9on ;  she  cares  for 
Bussy  ;  and  she  loves  that  little  La  Mole." 

*'  What  a  heart ! "  exclaimed  the  king. 

"•  That  little  La  Mole,"  went  on  the  queen,  "  wishes 
to  make  himself  a  great  man  hy  giving  France  a  king 
of  his  own  stripe.  He  is  promised,  they  say,  the  place 
of  connetable." 

''Curse  that  Margot !"  cried  the  king.  "This  is 
what  comes  of  her  marriage  with  a  heretic." 

"  Heretic  or  not  is  of  no  consequence  ;  the  trouble  is 
that,  in  spite  of  m}'  advice,  you  have  brought  the  head 
of  the  younger  branch  too  near  the  throne  by  that  mar- 
riage, and  Henri's  purpose  now  is  to  embroil  you  with 
the  rest  and  make  you  kill  one  another.  The  house  of 
Bourbon  is  the  enemj-  of  the  house  of  Valois  ;  remember 
that,  monsieur.  All  younger  branches  should  be  kept 
in  a  state  of  povert}',  for  the}'  are  born  conspirators. 
It  is  sheer  folly  to  give  them  arms  when  they  have 
none,  or  to  leave  them  in  possession  of  arms  when  they 
seize  them.  Let  ever}-  younger  son  be  made  incapable 
of  doing  harm ;  that  is  the  law  of  Crowns ;  the  Sultans 
of  Asia  follow  it.  The  proofs  of  this  conspirac}'  are  in 
my  room  upstairs,  where  I  asked  you  to  follow  me  last 
evening,  when  you  bade  me  good-night ;  but  instead  of 
doing  so,  it  seems  you  had  other  plans.  I  therefore 
waited  for  you.    If  we  do  not  take  the  proper  measures 


348  Catherine  de    Medici, 

immediately  you  will  meet  the  fate  of  Charles  the 
Simple  within  a  month." 

"A  month!"  exclaimed  the  king,  thunderstruck  at 
the  coincidence  of  that  period  with  the  delay  asked 
for  by  the  princes  themselves.  "  '  In  a  month  we 
shall  be  masters,' "  he  added  to  himself,  quoting  their 
words.  ''Madame,"  he  said  aloud,  "what  are  your 
proofs  ? '' 

"  The}^  are  unanswerable,  monsieur ;  the3'  come  from 
m}'  daughter  Marguerite.  Alarmed  herself  at  the  pos- 
sibilities of  such  a  combination,  her  love  for  the  throne 
of  the  Valois  has  proved  stronger,  this  time,  than  all 
her  other  loves.  She  asks,  as  the  price  of  her  revela- 
tions that  nothing  shall  be  done  to  La  Mole ;  but  the 
scoundrel  seems  to  me  a  dangerous  villain  whom  we 
had  better  be  rid  of,  as  well  as  the  Comte  de  Coconnas, 
your  brother  d'Alen9on's  right  hand.  As  for  the  Prince 
de  Conde,  he  consents  to  everything,  provided  I  am 
thrown  into  the  sea ;  perhaps  that  is  the  wedding  pres- 
ent he  gives  me  in  return  for  the  pretty  wife  I  gave 
him !  All  this  is  a  serious  matter,  monsieur.  You  talk 
of  horoscopes !  I  know  of  a  prediction  which  gives 
the  throne  of  the  Valois  to  the  Bourbons,  and  if  we  do 
not  take  care  it  will  be  fulfilled.  Do  not  be  angry  with 
your  sister ;  she  has  behaved  well  in  this  affair.  My 
son,"  continued  the  queen,  after  a  pause,  giving  a  tone 
of  tenderness  to  her  wofds,  ''evil  persons  on  the  side 
of  the  Guises  are  trying  to  sow  dissensions  between 
3'ou  and  me  ;  and  3'et  we  are  the  onh'  ones  in  the  king- 
dom whose  interests  are  absolutel}^  identical.  You 
blame  me,  I  know,  for  the  Saint-Bartholomew ;  you 
accuse  me  of  having  forced  you  into  it.     Catholicism, 


Catherine  de*  Medici,  349 

monsieur,  must  be  the  bond  between  France,  Spain, 
and  Ital^',  three  countries  which  can,  by  skilful  man- 
agement, secretly  planned,  be  united  in  course  of  time, 
under  the  house  of  Valois.  Do  not  deprive  yourself  of 
such  chances  by  loosing  the  cord  which  binds  the  three 
kingdoms  in  the  bonds  of  a  common  faith.  Why  should 
not  the  Valois  and  the  Medici  carry  out  for  their  own 
glory  the  scheme  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  whose  head  failed 
him?  Let  us  fling  off  that  race  of  Jeanne  la  Folle. 
The  Medici,  masters  of  Florence  and  of  Rome,  will 
force  Italy  to  support  your  interests ;  they  will  guar- 
antee you  advantages  by  treaties  of  commerce  and  alli- 
ance which  shall  recognize  your  fiefs  in  Piedmont,  the 
Milanais,  and  Naples,  where  3'ou  have  rights.  These, 
monsieur,  are  the  reasons  of  the  war  to  the  death 
which  we  make  against  the  Huguenots.  Why  do  3'ou 
force  me  to  repeat  these  things?  Charlemagne  was 
wrong  in  advancing  toward  the  north.  France  is  a 
bod}'  whose  heart  is  on  the  Gulf  of  Lyons  and  its  two 
arms  over  Spain  and  Itah'.  Therefore,  she  must  rule 
the  Mediterranean,  that  basket  into  which  are  poured 
all  the  riches  of  the  Orient,  now  turned  to  the  profit 
of  those-  seigneurs  of  Venice,  in  the  very  teeth  of 
Philip  II.  If  the  friendship  of  the  MedicJl  and  your 
rights  justify  3'ou  in  hoping  for  Ital}',  force,  alliances, 
or  a  possible  inheritance  may  give  3'ou  Spain.  Warn 
the  house  of  Austria  as  to  this,  —  that  ambitious  house 
to  which  the  Guelphs  sold  Ital}',  and  w^hich  is  even  now 
hankering  after  Spain.  Though  jour  wife  is  of  that 
house,  humble  it !  Clasp  it  so  closel}'  that  3'ou  will 
smother  it !  There  are  the  enemies  of  3'our  kingdom  ; 
thence  comes  help  to  the  Reformers.     Do  not  listen  to 


350  Catherine  de*  MedicL 

those  who  find  their  profit  in  causing  us  to  disagree, 
and  who  torment  your  life  b}"  making  3'ou  believe  1  am 
your  secret  eneni}'.  Have  Z  prevented  you  from  having 
heirs?  Wli}^  has  your  mistress  given  you  a  son,  and 
3'our  wife  a  daughter?  AVhy  have  you  not  to-day  three 
legitimate  heirs  to  root  out  the  hopes  of  these  seditious 
persons?  Is  it  I,  monsieur,  who  am  responsible  /or 
such  failures?  If  you  had  an  heir,  would  the  Due 
d*Alen9on  be  now  conspiring  ?  " 

As  she  ended  these  words,  Catherine  fixed  upon 
her  son  the  magnetic  glance  of  a  bird  of  pre}^  upon 
its  victim.  The  daughter  of  the  Medici  became  mag- 
nificent;  her  real  self  shone  upon  her  face,  which,  like 
that  of  a  gambler  over  the  green  table,  glittered  with 
vast  cupidities.  Charles  IX.  saw  no  longer  the  mother 
of  one  man,  but  (as  was  said  of  her)  the  mother  of 
armies  and  of  empires,  —  mater  castrorum,  Catlierine 
had  now  spread  wide  the  wings  of  her  genius,  and 
boldl}^  flown  to  the  heights  of  the  Medici  and  Valois 
policy,  tracing  once  more  the  mighty  plans  which  terri- 
fied in  earlier  days  her  husband  Henri  II.,  and  which, 
transmitted  hy  the  genius  of  the  Medici  to  Richelieu, 
remain  in  writing  among  the  papers  of  the  house  of 
Bourbon.  But  Charles  IX.,  hearing  the  unusual  per- 
suasions his  mother  was  using,  thought  that  there  must 
be  some  necessity  for  them,  and  he  began  to  ask  him- 
self what  could  be  her  motive.  He  dropped  his  eyes  ; 
he  hesitated  ;  his  distrust  was  not  lessened  by  her  stud- 
ied phrases.  Catherine  was  amazed  at  the  depths  of 
suspicion  she  now  beheld  in  her  son's  heart. 

"Well,  monsieur,"  she  said,  "do  you  not  under- 
stand me?     What  are  we,   you  and  I,  in  comparison 


Catherine  de'  Medici  351 

with  the  eternit^^  of  ro3'al  crowns?  Do  you  suppose  me 
to  have  other  designs  than  those  that  ought  to  actuate 
all  royal  persons  who  inhabit  the  sphere  where  empires 
are  ruled  ?  " 

"Madame,  I  will  follow  you  to  your  cabinet;  we 
must  act —  " 

"Act!"  cried  Catherine;  "let  our  enemies  alone; 
let  them  act ;  take  them  red-handed,  and  law  and  justice 
will  deliver  you  from  their  assaults.  For  God's  sake, 
monsieur,  show  them  good- will." 

The  queen  withdrew ;  the  king  remained  alone  for  a 
few  moments,  for  he  was  utterly  overwhelmed. 

"  On  which  side  is  the  trap?  "  thought  he.  "  Which 
of  the  two  —  she  or  the}'  —  deceive  me  ?  What  is  my 
best  polic}'  ?  DeuSy  disceme  causam  ineam  !  "  he  mut- 
tered with  tears  in  his  eyes.  "  Life  is  a  burden  to  me  ! 
I  prefer  death,  natural  or  violent,  to  these  perpetual 
torments !  "  he  cried  presently',  bringing  down  his  ham- 
mer upon  the  anvil  with  such  force  that  the  vaults  of 
the  palace  trembled. 

"  My  God !  "  he  said,  as  he  went  outside  and  looked 
np  at  the  sky,  "  thou  for  whose  holy  religion  I  struggle, 
give  me  the  light  of  thy  countenance  that  I  may  pene- 
trate the  secrets  of  m}^  mother's  heart  while  I  question 
the  Ruggieri." 


352  Catherine  de'  Medici, 


III. 


MARIE   TOUCHET. 


The  little  house  of  Madame  de  Belleville,  where 
Charles  IX.  had  deposited  his  prisoners,  was  the  last 
but  one  in  the  rue  de  TAutruche  on  the  side  of  the  rue 
Saint-Honore.  The  street  gate,  flanked  by  two  little 
brick  pavilions,  seemed  very  simple  in  those  days,  when 
gates  and  their  accessories  were  so  elaborately  treated. 
It  had  two  pilasters  of  stone  cut  in  facets,  and  the  cop- 
ing represented  a  reclining  woman  holding  a  cornucopia. 
The  gate  itself,  closed  b}'  enormous  locks,  had  a  wicket 
through  which  to  examine  those  who  asked  admittance. 
In  each  pavilion  lived  a  porter ;  for  the  king's  extremely 
capricious  pleasure  required  a  porter  b}'  day  and  b}^  night. 
The  house  had  a  little  courtyard,  paved  like  those  of 
Venice.  At  this  period,  before  carriages  were  invented, 
ladies  went  about  on  horseback,  or  in  litters,  so  that 
courtyards  could  be  made  magnificent  without  fear  of 
injury  from  horses  or  carriages.  This  fact  is  always  to 
be  remembered  as  an  explanation  of  the  narrowness  of 
streets,  the  small  size  of  courtjards,  and  certain  other 
details  of  the  private  dwellings  of  the  fifteenth  and  six- 
teenth centuries. 

The  house,  of  one  story  only  above  the  ground-floor, 
was  capped  by  a  sculptured  frieze,  above  which  rose  a 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  353 

roof  with  four  sides,  the  peak  being  flattened  to  form  a 
platform.  Dormer  windows  were  cut  in  this  roof^  with 
casings  and  pediments  which  the  chisel  of  some  great 
artist  had  covered  with  arabesques  and  dentils ;  each 
of  the  three  windows  on  the  main  floor  were  equally 
beautiful  in  stone  embroidery,  which  the  brick  of  the 
walls  showed  off  to  great  advantage.  On  the  ground- 
floor,  a  double  portico,  ver}'  delicately  decorated,  led 
to  the  entrance  door,  which  was  covered  with  bosses  cut 
with  facets  in  the  Venetian  manner,  —  a  style  of  deco- 
ration which  was  further  carried  on  round  the  windows 
placed  to  right  and  left  of  the  door. 

A  garden,  carefully  laid  out  in  the  fashion  of  the 
times  and  filled  with  choice  flowers,  occupied  a  space 
behind  the  house  equal  to  that  of  the  courtyard  in  front. 
A  grape-vine  draped  its  walls.  In  the  centre  of  a 
grass  plot  rose  a  silver  fir-tree.  The  flower-borders 
were  separated  from  the  grass  by  meandering  paths 
which  led  to  an  arbor  of  clipped  yews  at  the  farther  end 
of  the  little  garden.  The  walls  were  covered  with  a 
mosaic  of  variously  colored  pebbles,  coarse  in  design, 
it  is  true,  but  pleasing  to  the  e3'e  from  the  harmon}'  of 
its  tints  with  those  of  the  flower-beds.  The  house  had 
a  carved  balcony  on  the  garden  side,  above  the  door, 
and  also  on  the  front  toward  the  courtvard,  and  around 
the  middle  windows.  On  both  sides  of  the  house  the 
ornamentation  of  the  principal  window,  which  projected 
some  feet  from  the  wall,  rose  to  the  frieze ;  so  that  it 
formed  a  little  pavilion,  hung  there  like  a  lantern.  The 
casings  of  the  other  windows  were  inlaid  on  the  stone 
with  precious  marbles. 

In  spite  of  the  exquisite  taste  displaj'ed  in  the  little 

23 


354  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

house,  there  was  an  air  of  melancholy  about  it.  It  was 
darkened  by  the  buildings  that  surrounded  it  and  by 
the  roofs  of  the  hotel  d'Alenqon  which  threw  a  heavy 
shadow  over  both  court  and  garden  ;  moreover,  a  deep 
silence  reigned  there.  But  this  silence,  these  half-lights, 
this  solitude,  soothed  a  ro^'al  soul,  which  could  there 
surrender  itself  to  a  single  emotion,  as  in  a  cloister 
where  men  pra}',  or  in  some  sheltered  home  wherein 
they  Jove. 

It  is  easy  now  to  imagine  the  interior  charm  and 
choiceness  of  this  haven,  the  sole  spot  in  his  kingdom 
where  this  dying  Valois  could  pour  out  his  soul,  reveal 
his  sufferings,  exercise  his  taste  for  art,  and  give  himself 
up  to  the  poesy  he  loved,  —  pleasures  denied  him  by 
the  cares  of  a  cruel  ro3'alt3'.  Here,  alone,  were  his 
great  soul  and  his  high  intrinsic  worth  appreciated ; 
here  he  could  give  himself  up,  for  a  few  brief  months, 
the  last  of  his  life,  to  the  joys  of  fatherhood,  — 
pleasures  into  which  he  flung  himself  with  the  frenzy 
that  a  sense  of  his  coming  and  dreadful  death  impressed 
on  all  his  actions. 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  day  succeeding  the  night- 
scene  we  have  just  described,  Marie  Touchet  was 
finishing  her  toilet  in  the  oratory,  which  was  the  boudoir 
of  those  days.  She  was  arranging  the  long  curls  of  her 
beautiful, black  hair,  blending  them  with  the  velvet  of  a 
new  coif,  and  gazing  intentl}'  into  her  mirror. 

"  It  is  nearl>'  four  o'clock  ;  that  interminable  council 
must  surel}'  be  over,"  she  thought  to  herself.  ''Jacob 
has  returned  from  the  Louvre  ;  he  says  that  everybod}^ 
ho  saw  was  excited  about  the  number  of  the  councillors 
summoned  and  the  length  of  the  session.     What  can 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  355 

have  happened?  Is  it  some  misfortune?  Good  God  ! 
surely  he  knows  how  suspense  wears  out  the  soul ! 
Perhaps  he  has  gone  a-hunting?  If  he  is  happy  and 
anuised,  it  is  all  right.  When  I  see  him  gay,  I  forget 
all  I  have  suffered." 

Slie  drew  her  hands  round  her  slender  waist  as  if  to 
smooth  some  trifling  wrinkle  in  her  gown,  turning  side- 
ways to  see  if  its  folds  fell  properly,  and  as  she  did  so, 
she  caught  sight  of  the  king  on  the  couch  behind  her. 
The  carpet  had  so  mu filed  the  sound  of  his  steps  that 
he  had  slipped  in  softly  without  being  heard. 

"  You  frightened  me !  "  she  said,  with  a  cry  of  sur- 
prise, which  was  quickly  repressed. 

''  Were  3'ou  thinking  of  me?  "  said  the  king. 

''When  do  I  not  think  of  you?"  she  answered, 
sitting  down  beside  him. 

She  took  off  his  cap  and  cloak,  passing  her  hands 
through  his  hair  as  though  she  combed  it  with  her 
fingers.  Charles  let  her  do  as  she  pleased,  but  made 
no  answer.  Surprised  at  this,  Marie  knelt  down  to 
study  the  pale  face  of  her  royal  master,  and  then  saw 
the  signs  of  a  dreadful  weariness  and  a  more  consum- 
ing melancholy  than  any  she  had  yet  consoled.  She 
repressed  her  tears  and  kept  silence,  that  she  might  not 
irritate  by  mistaken  words  the  sorrow  which,  as  yet,  she 
did  not  understand.  In  this  she  did  as  tender  women 
do  under  like  circumstances.  She  kissed  that  forehead, 
seamed  with  untimely  wrinkles,  and  those  livid  cheeks, 
trying  to  convey  to  the  worn-out  soul  the  freshness  of 
hers,  —  pouring  her  spirit  into  the  sweet  caresses  which 
met  with  no  response.  Presently  she  raised  her  head 
to  the  level  of  the  king's,  clasping  him  softly  in  her 


356  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

arms  ;  then  she  la}^  still,  her  face  hidden  on  that  suf- 
fering breast,  watching  for  the  opportune  moment  to 
question  his  dejected  mind. 

''My  Chariot,''  she  said  at  last,  ''will  you  not  tell 
your  poor,  distressed  Marie  the  troubles  that  cloud  that 
precious  brow,  and  whiten  those  beautiful  red  lips?" 

"Except  Charlemagne,"  he  said  in  a  hollow  voice, 
*'  all  the  kings  of  France  named  Charles  have  ended 
miserably." 

"  Pooh  !  "  she  said,  "  look  at  Charles  VIII." 

"  That  poor  prince  !  "  exclaimed  the  king.  "  In  the 
flower  of  his  age  he  struck  his  head  against  a  low  door 
at  the  chMeau  of  Amboise,  which  he  was  having  decor- 
ated, and  died  in  horrible  agony.  It  was  his  death  which 
gave  the  crown  to  our  famil3^" 

"Charles  VII.  reconquered  his  kingdom." 

"  Darling,  he  died  "  (the  king  lowered  his  voice)  "of 
hunger;  for  he  feared  being  poisoned  b}'  the  dauphin, 
who  had  already  caused  the  death  of  his  beautiful 
Agnes.  The  father  feared  his  son ;  to-day  the  son 
dreads  his  mother !  " 

"  Why  drag  up  the  past?  "  she  said  hastil}',  remem- 
bering the  dreadful  life  of  Charles  VI. 

"  Ah !  sweetest,  kings  have  no  need  to  go  to  sorcer- 
ers to  discover  their  coming  fate ;  the}'  need  only  turn 
to  history.  I  am  at  this  moment  endeavoring  to  escape 
the  fate  of  Charles  the  Simple,  who  was  robbed  of  his 
crown,  and  died  in  prison  after  seven  years'  captivit}'." 

"Charles  V.  conquered  the  English,"  she  cried 
triumphantly. 

"No,  not  he,  but  du  Guesclin.  He  himself,  poi- 
soned b}^  Charles  de  Navarre,  dragged  out  a  wretched 
existence." 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  357 

"Well,  Charles  IV.,  then  ?  " 

"He  married  three  times  to  obtain  an  heir,  in  spite  of 
the  masculine  beautj'  of  the  children  of  PhiUppe  le  Bel. 
The  first  house  of  Valois  ended  with  him,  and  the 
second  is  about  to  end  in  the  same  wa}'.  The  queen 
has  given  me  only  a  daughter,  and  I  shall  die  without 
leaving  her  pregnant ;  for  a  long  minority  would  be 
the  greatest  curse  I  could  bequeath  to  the  kingdom. 
Besides,  if  I  had  a  son,  would  he  live?  The  name  of 
Charles  is  fatal ;  Charlemagne  exhausted  the  luck  of  it. 
If  I  left  a  son  I  should  tremble  at  the  thought  that  he 
would  be  Charles  X." 

'  ^  Who  is  it  that  wants  to  seize  3'our  crown  ?  " 

"  My  brother  d'Alengon  conspires  against  it.  Enemies 
are  all  about  me." 

"  Monsieur,''  said  Marie,  with  a  charming  little  pout, 
"  do  tell  me  something  gayer." 

"Ah!  my  little  jewel,  my  treasure,  don't  call  me 
*  monsieur,'  even  in  jest ;  you  remind  me  of  my  mother, 
who  stabs  me  incessantlv  with  that  title,  by  which  she 
seems  to  snatch  away  my  crown.  She  says  '  my  son ' 
to  the  Due  d'Anjou  —  I  mean  the  king  of  Poland." 

"Sire,"  exclaimed  Marie,  clasping  her  hands  as 
though  she  were  praying,  "  there  is  a  kingdom  where 
you  are  worshipped.  Your  Majesty  tills  it  with  his 
glory,  his  power  ;  and  there  the  word  '  monsieur/  means 
'  my  beloved  lord.'  " 

She  unclasped  her  hands,  and  with  a  pretty  gesture 
pointed  to  her  heart.  The  words  were  so  niitsiques  (to 
use  a  word  of  the  times  which  depicted  the  melodies  of 
love)  that  Charles  IX.  caught  her  round  the  waist  with 
the  nervous  force  that  characterized  him,  and  seated 


358  Catherine  de!  Medici, 

her  on  his  knee,  rubbing  his  forehead  gentl}-  against  the 
prett}'  curls  so  coquettishly  arranged.  Marie  thought 
the  moment  favorable  ;  she  ventured  a  few  kisses,  which 
Charles  allowed  rather  than  accepted,  then  she  said 
softly :  — 

''  If  m}'  servants  were  not  mistaken  you  were  out  all 
night  in  the  streets,  as  in  the  days  when  you  played  the 
pranks  of  a  3'ounger  son." 

''  Yes,"  replied  the  king,  still  lost  in  his  own  thoughts. 

''  Did  3'ou  fight  the  watchman  and  frighten  some  of 
the  burghers?  Who  are  the  men  you  brought  here  and 
locked  up?  They  must  be  ver}-  criminal,  as  you  won't 
allow  an}'  communication  with  them.  No  girl  was  ever 
locked  in  as  carefully',  and  thej-  have  not  had  a  mouth- 
ful to  eat  since  they  came.  The  Germans  whom  Solern 
left  to  guard  them  won't  let  any  one  go  near  the  room. 
Is  it  a  joke  that  you  are  playing ;  or  is  it  something 
serious  ?  '* 

"  Yes,  3'ou  are  right,"  said  the  king,  coming  out  of 
his  rever}',  "  last  night  I  did  scour  the  roofs  with  Ta- 
vannes  and  the  Gondis.  I  wanted  to  try  m}'  old  follies 
with  the  old  companions ;  but  my  legs  were  not  what 
they  once  were ;  I  did  not  dare  leap  the  streets ; 
though  we  did  jump  two  alleys  from  one  roof  to  the 
next.  At  the  second,  however,  Tavannes  and  I,  holding 
on  to  a  chimney,  agreed  that  we  could  n't  do  it  again. 
If  either  of  us  had  been  alone  we  could  n't  have  done 
it  then." 

"  I  '11  wager  that3'ou  sprang  first."  The  king  smiled. 
"  I  know  wlw  you  risk  your  life  in  that  way." 

*^  And  why,  you  little  witch?  " 

''  You  are  tired  of  hfe." 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  359 

"Ah,  sorceress!  But  I  am  being  hunted  clown  by 
sorcer}',"  said  the  king,  resuming  his  anxious  look. 

"  My  sorcery  is  love,"  she  replied  smiling.  "  Since 
the  happ3^  day  when  3'ou  first  loved  me,  have  I  not  al- 
ways divined  your  thoughts?  And  —  if  you  will  let  me 
speak  the  truth  —  the  thoughts  which  torture  you  to- 
day are  not  worthy  of  a  king." 

"  Am  I  a  king?  "  he  said  bitterly. 

"Cannot  you  be  one?  What  did  Charles  VII.  do? 
He  listened  to  his  mistress,  monseigneur,  and  he  recon- 
quered his  kingdom,  invaded  by  the  English  as  yours 
now  is  by  the  enemies  of  our  religion.  Your  last  coup 
d'J^tat  showed  you  the  course  you  have  to  follow. 
Exterminate  heres}'." 

"You  blamed  the  Saint-Bartholomew,"  said  Charles, 
"  and  now  you  —  '* 

"That  is  over,"  she  said;  "besides,  I  agree  with 
Madame  Catherine  that  it  was  better  to  do  it  yourselves 
than  let  the  Guises  do  it." 

"  Charles  VII.  had  only  men  to  fight;  I  am  face  to 
face  with  ideas,"  resumed  the  king.  "  We  can  kill  men, 
but  we  can't  kill  words  !  The  Emperor  Charles  V.  gave 
up  the  attempt ;  his  son  Philip  has  spent  his  strength 
npon  it ;  we  shall  all  perish,  we  kings,  in  that  struggle. 
On  whom  can  I  rely  ?  To  right,  among  the  Catholics, 
I  find  the  Guises,  who  are  my  enemies  ;  to  left,  the  Cal- 
vinists,  who  will  never  forgive  me  the  death  of  my  poor 
old  Coligny,  nor  that  bloody  day  in  August ;  besides, 
the}^  w^ant  to  suppress  the  throne ;  and  in  front  of  me 
what  have  I  ?  —  mv  mother  !  " 

"  Arrest  her  ;  reign  alone,"  said  Marie  in  a  low  voice, 
whispering  in  his  ear. 


o 


60  Catherine  de'  Medici. 


"I  meant  to  do  so  yesterday;  to-day  I  no  longer 
intend  it.     You  speak  of  it  rather  cooll3\" 

''Between  the  daughter  of  an  apothecary  and  that 
of  a  doctor  there  is  no  great  difference,"  replied  Marie 
Touchet,  always  ready  to  laugh  at  the  false  origin  at- 
tributed to  her. 

The  king  frowned. 

'•Marie,  don't  take  such  liberties.  Catherine  de' 
Medici  is  my  mother,  and  you  ought  to  tremble  lest  —  " 

"What  is  it  you  fear?" 

"  Poison  !  '*  cried  the  king,  beside  himself. 

"  Poor  child  !  "  cried  Marie,  restraining  her  tears  ;  for 
the  sight  of  such  strength  united  with  such  weakness 
touched  her  deeply.  "  Ah  !  "  she  continued,  "  you  make 
me  hate  Madame  Catherine,  who  has  been  so  good  to 
me  ;  her  kindness  now  seems  perfidy'.  Why  is  she  so 
kind  to  me,  and  so  bad  to  you?  During  my  stay  in 
Dauphine  I  heard  many  things  about  the  beginning  of 
your  reign  which  you  concealed  from  me ;  it  seems  to 
me  that  the  queen,  your  mother,  is  the  real  cause  of  all 
3'our  troubles." 

"  In  what  wa\'?"  cried  the  king,  deeply  interested. 

"  Women  whose  souls  and  whose  intentions  are  pure 
use  virtue  wherewith  to  rule  the  men  they  love  ;  but 
women  who  do  not  seek  good  rule  men  through  their  evil 
instincts.  Now,  the  queen  made  vices  out  of  certain  of 
your  noblest  qualities,  and  she  taught  you  to  believe 
that  your  worst  inclinations  were  virtues.  Was  that  the 
part  of  a  mother?  Be  a  tyrant  like  Louis  XI.  ;  inspire 
terror ;  imitate  Philip  II. ;  banish  the  Italians ;  drive 
out  the  Guises ;  confiscate  the  lands  of  the  Calvinists. 
Out  of  this  solitude  you  will  rise  a  king ;  you  will  save 


Catherine  de'  MedicL  361 

the  throne.     The  moment  is  propitious  ;  your  brother 
is  in  Poland." 

"  We  are  two  children  at  statecraft,"  said  Charles, 
bitterl}' ;  "we  know  nothing  except  how  to  love. 
Alas !  my  treasure,  yesterday  I,  too,  thought  all  these 
things  ;  I  dreamed  of  accomplishing  great  deeds  —  bah  ! 
my  mother  blew  down  my  house  of  cards  !  From  a  dis- 
tance we  see  great  questions  outlined  like  the  summits 
of  mountains,  and  it  is  easy  to  say  :  '  I  '11  make  an  end 
of  Calvinism  ;  I  '11  bring  those  Guises  to  task  :  I  '11 
separate  from  the  Court  of  Rome  ;  I  '11  rely  upon  my 
people,  upon  the  burghers  — '  ah  !  yes,  from  afar  it  all 
seems  simple  enough  !  but  try  to  climb  those  mountains 
and  the  higher  you  go  the  more  the  difficulties  appear. 
Calvinism,  in  itself,  is  the  last  thing  the  leaders  of  that 
party  care  for ;  and  the  Guises,  those  rabid  Catholics, 
would  be  sorry  indeed  to  see  the  Calvinists  put  down. 
Each  side  considers  its  own  interests  exclusivel}',  and 
religious  opinions  are  but  a  cloak  for  insatiable  ambi- 
tion. The  party  of  Charles  IX.  is  the  feeblest  of  all. 
That  of  the  king  of  Navarre,  that  of  the  king  of  Poland, 
that  of  the  Due  d'Alen9on,  that  of  the  Condes,  that  of 
the  Guises,  that  of  m\'  mother,  are  all  intriguing  one 
against  another,  but  they  take  no  account  of  me,  not 
even  in  m}'  own  council.  M}^  mother,  in  the  midst  of 
so  many  contending  elements,  is,  nevertheless,  the 
strongest  among  them  ;  she  has  just  proved  to  me  the 
inanit}'  of  my  plans.  We  are  surrounded  by  rebellious 
subjects  who  defy  the  law.  The  axe  of  Louis  XI.  of 
which  you  speak,  is  lacking  to  us.  Parliament  would 
not  condemn  the  Guises,  nor  the  king  of  Navarre,  nor 
the   Condes,   nor   my  brother.      No !   the   courage   to 


362  Catherine,  de'  Medici, 

assassinate  is  needed;  tlie  throne  will  be  forced  to 
strike  down  those  insolent  men  who  suppress  both  law 
and  justice;  but  where  can  we  find  the  faithful  arm? 
The  council  I  held  this  morning  has  disgusted  me  with 
everything ;  treason  everywhere ;  contending  interests 
all  about  me.  I  am  tired  with  the  burden  of  my  crown. 
I  only  want  to  die  in  peace." 

He  dropped  into  a  sort  of  gloom}^  somnolence. 

''Disgusted  with  everything!"  repeated  Marie 
Touchet,  sadly ;  but  she  did  not  disturb  the  black  tor- 
por of  her  lover. 

Charles  was  the  victim  of  a  complete  prostration 
of  mind  and  bod}',  produced  by  three  things,  —  the 
exhaustion  of  all  his  faculties,  aggravated  by  the  dis- 
heartenment  of  realizing  the  extent  of  an  evil ;  the 
recognized  impossibility  of  surmounting  his  weakness  ; 
and  the  aspect  of  difficulties  so  great  that  genius  itself 
would  dread  them.  The  king's  depression  w^as  in  pro- 
portion to  the  courage  and  the  loftiness  of  ideas  to  which 
he  had  risen  during  the  last  few  months.  In  addition  to 
this,  an  attack  of  nervous  melancholy,  caused  by  his 
malad}',  had  seized  him  as  he  left  the  protracted  coun- 
cil which  had  taken  place  in  his  private  cabinet.  Marie 
saw  that  he  was  in  one  of  those  crises  when  the  least 
word,  even  of  love,  would  be  importunate  and  painful ; 
so  she  remained  kneeling  quietly  beside  him,  her  head 
on  his  knee,  the  king's  hand  buried  in  her  hair,  and  he 
himself  motionless,  without  a  word,  without  a  sigh, 
as  still  as  Marie  herself,  —  Charles  IX.  in  the  leth- 
argy of  impotence,  Marie  in  the  stupor  of  despair 
which  comes  to  a  loving  woman  when  she  perceives  the 
boundaries  at  which  love  ends. 


Catherine  de*  Medici,  363 

The  lovers  thus  remained,  in  the  deepest  silence, 
during  one  of  those  terrible  hours  when  all  reflection 
TV'ounds,  when  the  clouds  of  an  inward  tempest  veil  even 
the  memory  of  happiness.  Marie  believed  that  she 
herself  was  partly  the  cause  of  this  frightful  dejection. 
She  asked  herself,  not  without  horror,  if  the  excessive 
joys  and  the  violent  love  which  she  had  never  yet  found 
strength  to  resist,  did  not  contribute  to  weaken  the 
mind  and  body  of  the  king.  As  she  raised  her  eyes, 
bathed  in  tears,  toward  her  lover,  she  saw  the  slow 
tears  rolling  down  his  pallid  cheeks.  This  mark  of  the 
sympathy  that  united  them  so  moved  the  king  that  he 
rushed  from  his  depression  like  a  spurred  horse.  He 
took  Marie  in  his  arms  and  placed  her  on  the  sofa. 

"  I  will  no  longer  be  a  king,"  he  cried.  "  I  will  be 
your  lover,  jour  lover  only,  wholly  given  up  to  that 
happiness.  I  will  die  happ}-,  and  not  consumed  by  the 
cares  and  miseries  of  a  throne." 

The  tone  of  these  words,  the  fire  that  shone  in  the 
half-extinct  eyes  of  the  king,  gave  Marie  a  terrible 
shock  instead  of  happiness  ;  she  blamed  her  love  as  an 
accomplice  in  the  malady  of  which  the  king  was  dying. 

*'  Meanwhile  you  forget  your  prisoners,"  she  said, 
rising  abruptl3\ 

"  Hey  !  what  care  I  for  them?  I  give  them  leave  to 
kill  me." 

"  What !  are  they  murderers  ?  " 

"Oh,  don't  be  frightened,  little  one;  we  hold  them 
fast.  Don't  think  of  them,  but  of  me.  Do  you 
love  me  ?  " 

"  Sire  !  "  she  cried. 

''  Sire ! "  he  repeated,  sparks  darting  from  his  eyes, 


364  Catherine  de*  Medici, 

so  violent  was  the  rush  of  his  anger  at  the  untimely 
respect  of  his  mistress.  *' You  are  in  league  with  my 
mother/' 

'^  O  God  !  '*  cried  Marie,  looking  at  the  picture  above  ' 
her  frie-dleu  and  turning  toward  it  to  say  her  prayer, 
'*  grant  that  he  comprehend  me  !  " 

^'  Ah  !  "  said  the  king,  suspiciously,  "  3'ou  have  some 
wrong  to  me  upon  your  conscience  ! "  Then  looking 
at  lier  from  between  his  arms,  he  plunged  his  eyes 
into  hers.  "  I  have  heard  some  talk  of  the  mad  passion 
of  a  certain  Entragues,"  he  went  on  wildl}'.  "  Ever  since 
their  grandfather,  the  soldier  Balzac,  married  a  viscon- 
tessa  at  Milan  that  family  hold  their  heads  too  high." 

Marie  looked  at  the  king  with  so  proud  an  air  that 
he  was  ashamed.  At  that  instant  the  cries  of  little 
Charles  de  Valois,  who  had  just  awakened,  were  heard 
in  the  next  room.     Marie  ran  to  the  door. 

''Come  in,  Bourguignonne !  "  she  said,  taking  the 
child  from  its  nurse  and  carrying  it  to  the  king.  "  You 
are  more  of  a  child  than  he,"  she  cried,  half  angr^^,  half 
appeased. 

"  He  is  beautiful !  "  said  Charles  IX.,  taking  his  son 
in  his  arms. 

"  1  alone  know  how  like  he  is  to  vou,"  said  Marie ; 
"  alread}'  he  has  your  smile  and  your  gestures." 

"  So  tiny  as  that !  "  said  the  king,  laughing  at  her. 

"Oh,  I  know  men  don't  believe  such  things;  but 
watch  him,  my  Chariot,  play  with  him.  Look  there ! 
See!     Am  I  not  rioht?" 

"  True  !  "  exclaimed  the  king,  astonished  by  a  motion 
of  the  child  which  seemed  the  very  miniature  of  a  ges- 
ture of  his  own. 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  365 

''  All,  the  pretty  flower  !  "  cried  the  mother.  "  Never 
shall  he  leave  me  !     He  will  never  cause  me  grief." 

The  king  frolicked  with  his  son  ;  he  tossed  him  in 
his  arms,  and  kissed  him  passion atel}',  talking  the 
foohsh,  unmeaning  talk,  the  prettj",  baby  language  in- 
vented by  nurses  and  mothers.  His  voice  grew  child- 
like. At  last  his  forehead  cleared,  joy  returned  to  his 
saddened  face,  and  then,  as  Marie  saw  that  he  had  for- 
gotten his  troubles,  she  laid  her  head  upon  his  shoulder 
and  whispered  in  his  ear  :  — 

"  Won't  you  tell  me.  Chariot,  why  you  have  made  me 
keep  murderers  in  my  house?  Who  are  these  men, 
and  what  do  you  mean  to  do  with  them?  In  short,  I 
want  to  know  w4iat  you  were  doing  on  the  roofs.  I  hope 
there  was  no  woman  in  the  business?" 

"Then  you  love  me  as  much  as  ever!"  cried  the 
king,  meeting  the  clear,  interrogator}'  glance  that  women 
know  so  well  how  to  cast  upon  occasion. 

"  You  doubted  me,"  she  repUed,  as  a  tear  shone  on 
her  beautiful  eyelashes. 

''  There  are  women  in  my  adventure,"  said  the  king ; 
''  but  they  are  sorceresses.     How  far  had  I  told  )'0U?" 

"  You  were  on  the  roofs  near  bj-  —  w4iat  street 
was  it?" 

"Rue  Saint-Honore,  sweetest,"  said  the  king,  who 
seemed  to  have  recovered  himself  Collecting  his 
thoughts,  he  began  to  explain  to  his  mistress  what  had 
happened,  as  if  to  prepare  her  for  a  scene  that  was 
presently  to  take  place  in  her  presence. 

"  As  I  was  passing  through  the  street  last  night  on  a 
frolic,"  he  said,  "  I  chanced  to  see  a  bright  light  from 
the  dormer  window  of  the  house  occupied  by  Rene,  my 


366  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

mother's  plover  and  perfumer,  and  once  3'ours.  I  have 
strong  doubts  about  that  man  and  what  goes  on  in  his 
house.  If  I  am  poisoned,  the  drug  will  come  from 
there." 

"  1  shall  dismiss  him  to-morrow/* 

"  Ah !  so  3'ou  kept  him  after  I  had  given  him  up?*' 
cried  the  king.  "  I  thought  m}'  life  was  safe  with  you,'* 
he  added  gloomily;  "  but  no  doubt  death  is  following 
me  even  here." 

'^But,  m}'  dearest,  I  have  onl}'  just  returned  from 
Dauphine  with  our  dauphin,"  she  said,  smiling,  "  and 
Rene  has  supplied  me  with  nothing  since  the  death  of 
the  Queen  of  Navarre.  Go  on;  you  climbed  to  the 
roof  of  Rene's  house  ?  " 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  367 


IV. 


THE    king's   tale. 


''Yes,"  returned  the  king.  "In  a  second  I  was 
there,  followed  by  Tavannes,  and  then  we  clambered  to 
a  spot  where  I  could  see  without  being  seen  the  interior 
of  that  devil's  kitchen,  in  which  I  beheld  extraordinary 
things  which  inspired  me  to  take  certain  measures.  Did 
you  ever  notice  the  end  of  the  roof  of  that  cursed  per- 
fumer ?  The  windows  toward  the  street  are  alwavs 
closed  and  dark,  except  the  last,  from  which  can  be 
seen  the  hotel  de  Soissons  and  the  observatorj^  which 
my  mother  built  for  that  astrologer,  Cosmo  Ruggiero. 
Under  the  roof  are  lodging-rooms  and  a  gallerj^  which 
have  no  windows  except  on  the  courtyard,  so  that  in 
order  to  see  what  was  going  on  within,  it  was  necessary 
to  go  where  no  man  before  ever  dreamed  of  climbing,  — 
along  the  coping  of  a  high  wall  which  adjoins  the  roof 
of  Rene's  house.  The  men  who  set  up  in  that  house 
the  furnaces  by  which  they  distil  death,  reckoned  on 
the  cowardice  of  Parisians  to  save  them  from  being 
overlooked ;  but  they  little  thought  of  Charles  de  Va- 
lois !  I  crept  along  the  coping  until  I  came  to  a  win- 
dow, against  the  casing  of  which  I  was  able  to  stand 
up  straight  with  my  arm  round  a  carved  monkey  which 
ornamented  it." 


868  Catherine  de*  Medici, 

"What    did    jo\x    see,    dear   heart?"    said   Marie, 
trembling. 

"  A  den,  where  works  of  darkness  were  being  done/' 
replied  the  king.  "  The  first  object  on  which  m}'  eyes 
lighted  was  a  tall  old  man  seated  in  a  chair,  with  a  magnifi- 
cent white  beard,  like  that  of  old  I'llopital,  and  dressed 
like  him  in  a  black  velvet  robe.  On  his  broad  forehead 
furrowed  deep  with  wrinkles,  on  his  crown  of  white  hair, 
on  his  calm,  attentive  face,  pale  with  toil  and  vigils,  fell 
the  concentrated  rays  of  a  lamp  from  which  shone  a 
vivid  light.  His  attention  was  divided  between  an  old 
manuscript,  the  parchment  of  which  must  have  been 
centuries  old,  and  two  lighted  furnaces  on  which  hereti- 
cal compounds  were  cooking.  Neither  the  floor  nor  the 
ceiling  of  the  laboratorj*  could  be  seen,  because  of  the 
myriads  of  hanging  skeletons,  bodies  of  animals,  dried 
plants,  minerals,  and  articles  of  all  kinds  that  masked 
the  walls  ;  while  on  the  floor  were  books,  instruments 
for  distilling,  chests  filled  with  utensils  for  magic  and 
astrology  ;  in  one  place  I  saw  horoscopes  and  nativities, 
phials,  wax-figures  under  spells,  and  possibly  poisons. 
Tavannes  and  I  were  fascinated,  I  do  assure  3'ou,  b}'  the 
sight  of  this  devil's-arsenal.  Only  to  see  it  puts  one 
imder  a  spell,  and  if  I  had  not  been  King  of  France,  I 
might  have  been  awed  by  it.  '  You  can  tremble  for 
both  of  us,'  I  whispered  to  Tavannes.  But  Tavannes' 
eyes  were  already  caught  bj'  the  most  mysterious  feature 
of  the  scene.  On  a  couch,  near  the  old  man,  lay  a  girl 
of  strangest  beaut}',  —  slender  and  long  like  a  snake, 
white  as  ermine,  livid  as  death,  motionless  as  a  statue. 
Perhaps  it  was  a  woman  just  taken  from  her  grave,  on 
whom  they  were  trying  experiments,  for  she  seemed  to 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  369 

wear  a  shroud ;  her  e3'es  were  fixed,  and  I  conld  not 
see  that  she  breathed.  The  old  fellow  paid  no  attention 
to  her.  I  looked  at  him  so  intentl}'  that,  after  a  while, 
his  soul  seemed  to  pass  into  mine.  By  dint  of  studying 
him,  I  ended  by  admiring  the  glance  of  his  e3'e,  — so 
keen,  so  profound,  so  bold,  in  spite  of  the  chilling  power 
of  age.  I  admired  his  mouth,  mobile  with  thoughts 
emanating  from  a  desire  which  seemed  to  be  the  soli- 
tar}"  desire  of  his  soul,  and  was  stamped  upon  every 
line  of  the  face.  All  things  in  that  man  expressed 
a  hope  which  nothing  discouraged,  and  nothing  could 
check.  His  attitude,  —  a  quivering  immovability,  —  those 
outlines  so  free,  carved  b}'  a  single  passion  as  b}'  the 
chisel  of  a  sculptor,  that  idea  concentrated  on  some 
experiment  criminal  or  scientific,  that  seeking  Mind  in 
quest  of  Nature,  thwarted  by  her,  bending  but  never 
broken  under  the  weight  of  its  own  audacity,  which 
it  would  not  renounce,  threatening  creation  with  the  fire 
it  derived  from  it,  —  ah !  all  that  held  me  in  a  spell  for 
the  time  being.  I  saw  before  me  an  old  man  who  was 
more  of  a  king  than  I,  for  his  glance  embraced  the 
world  and  mastered  it.  I  will  forge  swords  no  longer ; 
I  will  soar  above  the  ab3'sses  of  existence,  like  that 
man  ;  for  his  science,  methinks,  is  true  roj'alt}' !  Yes, 
I  believe  in  occult  science." 

"•You,  the  eldest  son,  the  defender  of  the  Holy 
Catholic,  Apostolic,  and  Roman  Church  ?  "  said  Marie. 

"  What  happened  to  3'ou  ?  Go  on,  go  on  ;  I  will  fear 
for  you,  and  you  will  have  courage  for  me." 

"  Looking  at  a  clock,  the  old  man  rose,"  continued 
the  king.     "  He  went  out,  I  don't  know  where;  but  I 

24 


370  Catherine  cW  Medici. 

heard  the  window  on  the  side  toward  the  rue  Saint- 
Honore  open.  Soon  a  brilliant  light  gleamed  out  upon 
the  darkness  ;  then  I  saw  in  the  observatorj^  of  the  hotel 
de  Soissons  another  light  replying  to  that  of  the  old 
man,  and  b}^  it  I  beheld  the  figure  of  Cosmo  Ruggiero 
on  the  tower.  '  See,  they  communicate !  ^  I  said  to 
Tavannes,  who  from  that  moment  thought  the  matter 
frightfull}'  suspicious,  and  agreed  with  me  that  we 
ought  to  seize  the  two  men  and  search,  incontinently', 
their  accursed  workshop.  But  before  proceeding  to  do 
so,  we  wanted  to  see  what  was  going  to  happen.  After 
about  fifteen  minutes  the  door  opened,  and  Cosmo 
Ruggiero,  my  mother's  counsellor,  — the  bottomless  pit 
which  holds  the  secrets  of  the  court,  he  from  whom  all 
the  women  ask  help  against  their  husbands  and  lovers, 
and  all  the  men  ask  help  against  their  unfaithful  wives 
and  mistresses,  he  who  traflScs  on  the  future  as  on  the 
past,  receiving  pay  with  both  hands,  who  sells  horo- 
scopes and  is  supposed  to  know  all  things,  —  that 
semi-devil  came  in,  saying  to  the  old  man,  '  Good-day 
to  3'ou,  brother.'  With  him  he  brought  a  hideous  old 
woman,  —  toothless,  humpbacked,  twisted,  bent,  like  a 
Chinese  image,  onl}^  worse.  She  was  wrinkled  as  a 
withered  apple  ;  her  skin  was  saffron-colored  ;  her  chin 
bit  her  nose ;  her  mouth  was  a  mere  line  scarcelv  visi- 
ble ;  her  e3'es  were  like  the  black  spots  on  a  dice ;  her 
forehead  emitted  bitterness ;  her  hair  escaped  in  strag- 
gling gray  locks  from  a  dirty  coif;  she  walked  with  a 
crutch  ;  she  smelt  of  heresy  and  witchcraft.  The  sight 
of  her  actually  frightened  us,  Tavannes  and  me !  We 
did  n't  think  her  a  natural  woman.  God  never  made 
a  woman  so  fearful  as  that.     She  sat  down  on  a  stool 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  371 

near  the  pretty  snake  with  whom  Tavannes  was  in  love. 
The  two  brothers  paid  no  attention  to  the  old  woman 
nor  to  the  young  woman,  who  together  made  a  horrible 
couple,  —  on  the  one  side  life  in  death,  on  the  other 
death  in  life  —  " 

''  Ah  !  my  sweet  poet !  "  cried  Marie,  kissing  the  king. 

" '  Good-day,  Cosmo,'  replied  the  old  alchemist. 
And  they  both  looked  into  the  furnace.  '  What  strength 
has  the  moon  to-day  ? '  asked  the  elder.  '  But,  caro 
Lorenzo^*  replied  my  mothers  astrologer,  '  the  Septem- 
ber tides  are  not  yet  over ;  we  can  learn  nothing  while 
that  disorder  lasts.'  'What  saj's  the  East  to-night? ' 
'  It  discloses  in  the  air  a  creative  force  which  returns  to 
earth  all  that  earth  takes  from  it.  The  conclusion  is  that 
all  things  here  below  are  the  product  of  a  slow  trans- 
formation, but  that  all  diversities  are  the  forms  of  one 
and  the  same  substance.'  '  That  is  what  my  predecessor 
thought,'  replied  Lorenzo.  '  This  morning  Bernard  Pal- 
iss3'  told  me  that  metals  were  the  result  of  compression, 
and  that  fire,  which  divides  all,  also  unites  all ;  fire  has 
the  power  to  compress  as  well  as  to  separate.  That  man 
has  genius.'  Though  I  was  placed  where  it  was  impos- 
sible for  them  to  see  me,  Cosmo  said,  lifting  the  hand 
of  the  dead  girl :  '  Some  one  is  near  us  !  Who  is  it  ? ' 
'  The  king,*  she  answered.  I  at  once  showed  myself 
and  rapped  on  the  window.  Ruggiero  opened  it,  and  I 
sprang  into  that  hellish  kitchen,  followed  by  Tavannes. 
^  Yes,  the  king,'  I  said  to  the  two  Florentines,  wbo 
seemed  terrified.  '  In  spite  of  3'our  furnaces  and  your 
books,  your  science  and  your  sorceries,  you  did  not  fore- 
see m}'  visit.  I  am  ver}^  glad  to  meet  tlie  famous  Lorenzo 
Ruggiero,  of  whom  ray  mother  speaks  mysteriously/  I 


372  Catherine  de*  Medici. 

said^  addressing  the  old  man,  who  rose  and  bowed.  *  You 
are  in  this  kingdom  without  my  consent,  my  good  man. 
For  whom  are  you  working  here,  you  whose  ancestors 
from  father  to  son  have  been  devoted  in  heart  to  the 
liouse  of  Medici  ?  Listen  to  me  !  You  dive  into  so  many 
purses  that  by  this  time,  if  you  are  grasping  men,  you 
have  piled  up  gold.  You  are  too  shrewd  and  cautious 
to  cast  yourselves  imprudently  into  criminal  actions ; 
but,  nevertheless,  you  are  not  here  in  this  kitchen  with- 
out a  purpose.  Yes,  you  have  some  secret  scheme,  you 
who  are  satisfied  by  neither  gold  nor  power.  Whom 
do  you  serve,  —  God  or  the  devil  ?  What  are  you  con- 
cocting here?  I  choose  to  know  the  whole  truth  ;  I  am 
a  man  who  can  hear  it  and  keep  silence  about  your  en- 
terprise, however  blamable  it  may  be.  Therefore  you 
will  tell  me  all,  without  reserve.  If  vou  deceive  me 
you  will  be  treated  severely.  Pa^rans  or  Christians, 
Calvinists  or  Mohammedans,  3'ou  have  m}'  royal  word 
that  you  shall  leave  the  kingdom  in  safet}'  if  you  have 
an}'  misdemeanors  to  relate.  I  shall  leave  3'ou  for  the 
rest  of  the  night  and  the  forenoon  of  to-morrow  to  ex- 
amine your  thoughts ;  for  you  are  now  my  prisoners, 
and  you  will  at  once  follow  me  to  a  place  where  you 
will  be  guarded  carefuU}'.'  Before  obeying  me  the 
two  Italians  consulted  each  other  b}^  a  subtle  glance ; 
then  Lorenzo  Ruggiero  said  I  might  be  assured  that  no 
torture  could  wring  their  secrets  from  them  ;  that  in 
spite  of  their  apparent  feebleness  neither  pain  nor 
human  feelings  had  an}'  power  over  them ;  confidence 
alone  could  make  their  mouth  sa}'  what  their  mind  con- 
tained. I  must  not,  he  said,  be  surprised  if  the}^ 
treated  as  equals  with  a  king  who  recognized  God  only 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  373 


as  above  him,  for  their  thoughts  came  from  God  alone. 
The}^  therefore  claimed  from  me  as  much  confidence 
and  trust  as  they  should  give  to  me.  But  before  en- 
gaging themselves  to  answer  me  without  reserve  they 
must  request  me  to  put  my  left  hand  into  that  of  the 
young  girl  lying  there,  and  my  right  into  that  of  the 
old  woman.  Not  wishing  them  to  think  I  was  afraid 
of  their  sorcery,  I  held  out  my  hands  ;  Lorenzo  took 
the  right,  Cosmo  the  left,  and  each  placed  a  hand  in 
that  of  each  woman,  so  that  I  was  like  Jesus  Christ  be- 
tween the  two  thieves.  During  the  time  that  the  two 
witches  were  examining  my  hands  Cosmo  held  a  mir- 
ror before  me  and  asked  me  to  look  into  it ;  his  brother, 
meanwhile,  was  talking  with  the  two  women  in  a  lan- 
guage unknown  to  me.  Neither  Tavannes  nor  I  could 
catch  the  meaning  of  a  single  sentence.  Before  bring- 
ing the  men  here  we  put  seals  on  all  the  outlets  of  the 
laboratory,  which  Tavannes  undertook  to  guard  until 
such  time  as,  by  my  express  orders,  Bernard  Palissy, 
and  Chapelain,  my  physician,  could  be  brought  there 
to  examine  thoroughl}'  the  drugs  the  place  contained 
and  which  were  evidently  made  there.  In  order  to 
keep  the  Ruggieri  ignorant  of  this  search,  and  to  pre- 
vent them  from  communicatinsr  with  a  single  soul  out- 
side,  I  put  the  two  devils  in  your  lower  rooms  in  charge 
of  Solern's  Germans,  who  are  better  than  the  walls  of  a 
jail.  Rene,  the  perfumer,  is  kept  under  guard  in  his 
own  house  by  Solern's  equerry,  and  so  are  the  two 
witches.  Now,  my  sweetest,  inasmuch  as  I  hold  the 
keys  of  the  whole  cabal, — the  kings  of  Thune,  the 
chiefs  of  sorcery,  the  gipsy  fortune-tellers,  the  masters 
of  the  future,  the  heirs  of  all  past  soothsayers,  —  1  in- 


374  Catherine  de^  Medici, 

tend  by  their  means  to  read  you,  to  know  3'our  heart ; 
and,  together,  we  will  find  what  is  to  happen  to  us.'' 

"  I  shall  be  giad  if  they  can  lay  my  heart  bare  be- 
fore 3'ou,"  said  Marie,  without  the  slightest  fear. 

''  I  know  why  sorcerers  don't  frighten  3'ou,  —  because 
you  are  a  witch  yourself." 

"Will  you  have  a  peach?"  she  said,  offering  him 
some  delicious  fruit  on  a  gold  plate.  "  See  these 
grapes,  these  pears ;  I  went  to  Vincennes  mjself  and 
gathered  them  for  3'ou." 

"  Yes,  I  '11  eat  them  ;  there  is  no  poison  there  except 
a  philter  from  your  hands." 

"You  ought  to  eat  a  great  deal  of  fruit,  Charles; 
it  would  cool  3'our  blood,  which  3'ou  heat  by  such 
excitements." 

"  Must  I  love  you  less?" 

"  Perhaps  so,"  she  said.  *'  If  the  things  you  love 
injure  3'ou  —  and  I  have  feared  it  —  I  shall  find 
strength  in  my  love  to  refuse  them.  I  adore  Charles 
more  than  I  love  the  king ;  I  want  the  man  to  live, 
released  from  the  tortures  that  make  him  grieve." 

"Royalt}^  has  ruined  me." 

"Yes,"  she  replied.  "If  3'ou  were  only  a  poor 
prince,  like  3'our  brother-in-law  of  Navarre,  without  a 
penn3",  possessing  onl3^  a  miserable  little  kingdom  in 
Spain  where  ne  never  sets  his  foot,  and  Beam  in 
France  which  does  n't  give  him  revenue  enough  to  feed 
him,  I  should  be  happ3%  much  happier  than  if  I  were 
reall3"  Queen  of  France." 

"  But  3'ou  are  more  than  the  Queen  of  France.  She 
has  King  Charles  for  the  sake  of  the  kingdom  only; 
royal  marriages  are  onl3^  politics." 


Catherine  de!  Medici.  375 

Marie  smiled  and  made  a  pretty  little  grimace  as  she 
said:  ''  Yes,  3'es,  I  know  that,  sire.  And  my  sonnet, 
have  3'ou  written  it?" 

''  Dearest,  verses  are  as  difficult  to  write  as  treaties 
of  peace  ;  but  you  shall  have  them  soon.  Ah,  me  !  life 
is  so  easy  here,  I  wish  I  might  never  leave  3'ou.  How- 
ever, we  must  send  for  those  Italians  and  question  them. 
Tete-Dieu!  I  thought  one  Ruggiero  in  the  kingdom 
was  one  too  manj',  but  it  seems  there  are  two.  Now 
listen,  my  precious ;  you  don't  lack  sense,  3'ou  would 
make  an  excellent  lieutenant  of  police,  for  you  can  pen- 
etrate things  —  '* 

'^  But,  sire,  we  women  suppose  all  we  fear,  and  we 
turn  what  is  probable  into  truths ;  that  is  the  whole  of 
our  art  in  a  nutshell." 

"  Well,  help  me  to  sound  these  men.  Just  now  all 
my  plans  depend  on  the  result  of  their  examination. 
Are  the}'  innocent?  Are  they  guilty?  My  mother  is 
behind  them." 

"  I  hear  Jacob's  voice  in  the  next  room,"  said 
Marie. 

Jacob  was  the  favorite  valet  of  the  king,  and  the  one 
who  accompanied  him  on  all  his  private  excursions. 
He  now  came  to  ask  if  it  was  the  king's  good  pleasure 
to  speak  to  the  two  prisoners.  The  king  made  a  sign 
in  the  affirmative,  and  the  mistress  of  the  house  gave 
her  orders. 

"Jacob,"  she  said,  "  clear  the  house  of  everybod}^, 
except  the  nurse  and  Monsieur  le  Dauphin  d'Auvergne, 
who  may  remain.  As  for  you,  stay  in  the  lower  hall ; 
but  first,  close  the  windows,  draw  the  curtains  of  the 
salon,  and  light  the  candles." 


376  Catherine  de^  Medici. 

The  king's  impatience  was  so  great  that  while  these 
preparations  were  being  made  he  sat  down  upon  a 
raised  seat  at  the  corner  of  a  lofty  fireplace  of  white 
marble  in  which  a  bright  fire  was  blazing,  placing  his 
pretty  mistress  by  his  side.  His  portrait,  framed  in 
in  velvet,  was  over  the  mantle  in  place  of  a  mirror. 
Charles  IX.  rested  his  elbow  on  the  arm  of  the  seat  as 
if  to  watch  the  two  Florentines  the  better  under  cover 
of  his  hand. 

The  shutters  closed,  and  the  curtains  drawn,  Jacob 
lighted  the  wax  tapers  in  a  tall  candelabrum  of  chis- 
elled silver,  which  he  placed  on  the  table  where  the 
Florentines  were  to  stand,  —  an  object,  b}'  the  bye, 
which  they  would  readily  recognize  as  the  work  of  their 
compatriot,  Benvenuto  Cellini.  The  richness  of  the 
room,  decorated  in  the  taste  of  Charles  IX.,  now  shone 
forth.  The  red-brown  of  the  tapestries  showed  to  better 
advantage  than  by  daylight.  The  various  articles  of 
furniture,  delicateh'  made  or  carved,  reflected  in  their 
ebon}'  panels  the  glow  of  the  fire  and  the  sparkle  of  the 
lights.  Gilding,  soberly  applied,  shone  here  and  there 
like  eyes,  brightening  the  brown  color  which  prevailed 
in  this  nest  of  love. 

Jacob  presentl}^  gave  two  knocks,  and,  receiving 
permission,  ushered  in  the  Italians.  Marie  Touchet 
was  instantl}^  affected  by  the  grandeur  of  Lorenzo's 
presence,  which  struck  all  those  who  met  him,  great 
and  small  alike.  The  silverj^  whiteness  of  the  old 
man's  beard  was  heightened  by  a  robe  of  black  velvet ; 
his  brow  was  like  a  marble  dome.  His  austere  face, 
illumined  by  two  black  eyes  which  cast  a  pointed  flame, 
conveyed  an  impression  of  genius  issuing  from  solitude, 


Catherine  de*  Medici, 


377 


and  all  the  more  effective  because  its  power  had  not 
been  dulled  b}^  contact  with  men.  It  was  like  the  steel 
of  a  blade  that  had  never  been  fleshed. 

As  for  Cosmo  Ruggiero,  he  wore  the  dress  of  a 
courtier  of  the  time.  Marie  made  a  sign  to  the  king 
to  assure  him  that  he  had  not  exaggerated  his  descrij^- 
tion,  and  to  thank  him  for  having  shown  her  these 
extraordinarv  men. 

"  I  would  like  to  have  seen  the  sorceresses,  too,"  she 
"whispered  in  his  ear. 


378  Catherine  de'  Medici. 


V. 


THE   ALCHEMISTS. 

Again  absorbed  in  thought,  Charles  IX.  made  her 
no  answer ;  he  was  idly  flicking  crumbs  of  bread  from 
his  doublet  and  breeches. 

''Your  science  cannot  change  the  heavens  or  make 
the  sun  to  shine,  messieurs,"  he  said  at  last,  pointing 
to  the  curtains  which  the  gray  atmosphere  of  Paris 
darkened. 

"  Our  science  can  make  the  skies  what  we  like,  sire," 
replied  Lorenzo  Ruggiero.  ''The  weather  is  always 
fine  for  those  who  work  in  a  laboratory  by  the  light  of 
a  furnace.'' 

"That  is  true,"  said  the  king.  "Well,  father,"  he 
added,  using  an  expression  familiar  to  him  when 
addressing  old  men,  "  explain  to  us  clearly  the  object  of 
your  studies." 

"  What  will  guarantee  our  safety?" 

"  The  word  of  a  king,"  repUed  Charles  IX.,  whose 
curiosity  was  keenl}^  excited  by  the  question. 

Lorenzo  Ruggiero  seemed  to  hesitate,  and  Charles  IX. 
cried  out:  "What  hinders  3'ou?     We  are  here  alone." 

"  But  is  the  King  of  France  here?  "  asked  Lorenzo. 

Charles  reflected  an  instant,  and  then  answered, 
"]No." 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  379 

The  imposing  old  man  then  took  a  chair,  and  seated 
himself.  Cosmo,  astonished  at  this  boldness,  dared  not 
imitate  it. 

Charles  IX.  remarked,  with  cutting  sarcasm:  ''The 
king  is  not  here,  monsieur,  but  a  lady  is,  whose  per- 
mission it  was  your  duty  to  await." 

''  He  whom  you  see  before  you,  madame,"  said  the 
old  man,  ''is  as  far  above  kings  as  kings  are  above 
their  subjects ;  you  will  think  me  courteous  when  you 
know  my  powers." 

t  Hearing  these  audacious  words,  said  with  Italian 
emphasis,  Charles  and  Marie  looked  at  each  other,  and 
also  at  Cosmo,  who,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  his  brotlier, 
seemed  to  be  asking  himself:  "  How  does  he  intend  to 
get  us  out  of  the  danger  in  which  we  are  ?  " 
\  In  fact,  there  was  but  one  person  present  wlio  could 
understand  the  boldness  and  the  art  of  Lorenzo  Rug- 
giero's  first  step  ;  and  that  person  was  neither  the  king 
nor  his  young  mistress,  on  whom  the  great  seer  had 
already  flung  the  spell  of  his  audacity,  —  it  was  Cosmo 
Ruggiero,  his  wily  brother.  Though  superior  himself 
to  the  ablest  men  at  court,  perhaps  even  to  Catherine 
de'  Medici  herself,  the  astrologer  always  recognized  his 
brother  Lorenzo  as  his  master. 

Buried  in  studious  solitude,  the  old  savant  weighed 
and  estimated  sovereigns,  most  of  whom  were  worn  out 
by  the  perpetual  turmoil  of  politics,  the  crises  of  which 
at  this  period  came  so  suddenly  and  were  so  keen,  so 
intense,  so  unexpected.  He  knew  their  ennui,  their 
lassitude,  their  disgust  with  things  about  them ;  he 
knew  the  ardor  with  which  they  sought  what  seemed 
gto  them  new  or  strange  or  fantastic ;  above  all,  how 


380  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

they  loved  to  enter  some  unknown  intellectual  region 
to  escape  their  endless  struggle  with  men  and  events. 
To  those  who  have  exhausted  statecraft,  nothing  remains 
but  the  realm  of  pure  thought.  Charles  the  Fifth 
proved  this  by  his  abdication.  Charles  IX.,  who  wrote 
sonnets  and  forged  blades  to  escape  the  exhausting 
cares  of  an  age  in  which  both  throne  and  king  were 
threatened,  to  whom  royalty  had  brought  only  cares  and 
never  pleasures,  was  likely  to  be  roused  to  a  high  pitch 
of  interest  by  the  bold  denial  of  his  power  thus  uttered 
by  Lorenzo.  Religious  doubt  was  not  surprising  in  an 
age  when  Catholicism  was  so  violently  arraigned ;  but 
the  upsetting  of  all  religion,  given  as  the  basis  of  a 
strange,  mysterious  art,  would  surely  strike  the  king's 
mind,  and  drag  it  from  its  present  preoccupations. 
The  essential  thing  for  the  two  brothers  was  to  make 
the  king  forget  his  suspicions  b}^  turning  his  mind  to 
new  ideas. 

The  Ruggieri  were  well  aware  that  their  stake  in 
this  game  was  their  own  life,  and  the  glances,  so  hum- 
ble, and  yet  so  proud,  which  they  exchanged  with  the 
searching,  suspicious  eyes  of  Marie  and  the  king,  were 
a  scene  in  themselves. 

"  Sire,"  said  Lorenzo  Ruggiero,  "  3'ou  have  asked  me 
for  the  truth ;  but,  to  show  the  truth  in  all  her  naked- 
ness, I  must  also  show  you  and  make  you  sound  the 
depths  of  the  well  from  which  she  comes.  I  appeal  to 
the  gentleman  and  the  poet  to  pardon  words  which 
the  eldest  son  of  the  Church  might  take  for  blasphemy, 
—  I  believe  that  God  does  not  concern  himself  with 
human  affairs." 

Though  determined  to  maintain  a  kingly  composure, 
Charles  IX.  could  not  repress  a  motion  of  surprise. 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  381 

"Without  that  conviction  I  should  have  no  faith 
whatever  in  the  miraculous  work  to  which  my  life  is 
devoted.  To  do  that  work  I  must  have  this  belief ; 
and  if  the  finger  of  God  guides  all  things,  then —  I  am 
a  madman.  Therefore,  let  the  king  understand,  once 
for  all,  that  this  work  means  a  victory  to  be  won  over 
the  present  course  of  Nature.  I  am  an  alchemist,  sire. 
But  do  not  think,  as  the  common-minded  do,  that  I 
seek  to  make  gold.  The  making  of  gold  is  not  the 
object  but  an  incident  of  our  researches  ;  otherwise  our 
toil  could  not  be  called  the  Great  Work.  The  Great 
Work  is  something  far  loftier  than  that.  If,  therefore, 
I  were  forced  to  admit  the  presence  of  God  in  matter, 
my  voice  must  logicall}^  command  the  extinction  of  fur- 
naces kept  burning  throughout  the  ages.  But  to  deny 
the  direct  action  of  God  in  the  world  is  not  to  deny 
God ;  do  not  make  that  mistake.  We  place  the  Creator 
of  all  things  far  higher  than  the  sphere  to  which  reli- 
gions have  degraded  him.  Do  not  accuse  of  atheism 
those  who  look  for  immortality.  Like  Lucifer,  we  are 
jealous  of  our  God  ;  and  jealousy  means  love.  Though 
the  doctrine  of  which  I  speak  is  tlie  basis  of  our  work, 
all  our  disciples  are  not  imbued  with  it.  Cosmo,''  said 
the  okl  man,  pointing  to  his  brother,  "  Cosmo  is 
devout ;  he  pays  for  masses  for  the  repose  of  our 
father's  soul,  and  he  goes  to  hear  them.  Your  mother's 
astrologer  believes  in  the  divinity  of  Christ,  in  the 
Immaculate  Conception,  in  Transubstantiation  ;  he  be- 
lieves also  in  the  pope's  indulgences  and  in  hell,  and  in 
a  multitude  of  such  things.  His  hour  has  not  3'et  come. 
I  have  drawn  his  horoscope ;  he  will  live  to  be  almost  a 
centenarian  ;  he  will  live  through  two  more  reigns,  and 
he  will  see  two  kings  of  France  assassinated." 


382  Catlierine  de'  MedicL 

"  Who  are  the}'?"  asked  the  king. 

"The  last  of  the  Valois  and  the  first  of  tlie  Bonr- 
hons/'  replied  Lorenzo.  "  But  Cosmo  shares  m}-  opin- 
ion. It  is  impossible  to  be  an  alchemist  and  a  Catholic, 
to  have  faith  in  the  despotism  of  man  over  matter,  and 
also  in  the  sovereignty'  of  the  divine." 

'^  Cosmo  to  die  a  centenarian  !  "  exclaimed  the  king, 
with  his  terrible  frown  of  the  eyebrows. 

"Yes,  sire,"  replied  Lorenzo,  with  authorit}^;  "and 
he  will  die  peaceablj'  in  his  bed." 

"  If  you  have  power  to  foresee  the  moment  of  3'our 
death,  wh}'  are  3'ou  ignorant  of  the  outcome  of  your 
researches  ?  "  asked  the  king. 

Charles  XT.  smiled  as  he  said  this,  looking  trium- 
phantl}'  at  Marie  Touchet.  The  brothers  exchanged  a 
rapid  glance  of  satisfaction. 

"  He  begins  to  be  interested,"  thought  they.  "We 
are  saved !  " 

"  Our  prognostics  depend  on  the  immediate  relations 
which  exist  at  the  time  between  man  and  Nature  ;  but 
our  purpose  itself  is  to  change  those  relations  entirelj'/' 
replied  Lorenzo. 

The  king  was  thoughtful. 

"  But,  if  3'ou  are  certain  of  dying  3'ou  are  certain  of 
defeat,"  he  said,  at  last. 

"  Like  our  predecessors,"  replied  Lorenzo,  raising  his 
hand  and  letting  it  fall  again  with  an  emphatic  and  sol- 
emn gesture,  which  presented  visibly  the  grandeur  of 
his  thought.  "  But  3'Our  mind  has  bounded  to  the  con- 
fines of  the  matter,  sire ;  we  must  return  upon  our 
steps.  If  you  do  not  know  the  ground  on  which  our 
edifice  is  built,  you  may  well  think  it  doomed  to  crumble 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  383 

with  our  lives,  and  so  judge  the  Science  cultivated  from 
century  to  century  by  the  greatest  among  men,  as  the 
common  herd  judge  of  it." 

The  king  made  a  sign  of  assent. 

*•■  I  think,"  continued  Lorenzo,  "  that  this  earth  be- 
longs to  man  ;  he  is  the  master  of  it,  and  he  can  appro- 
priate to  his  use  all  forces  and  all  substances.  Man  is 
not  a  creation  issuing  directly  from  the  hand  of  God ; 
but  the  development  of  a  principle  sown  broadcast  into 
the  infinite  of  ether,  from  which  millions  of  creatures 
are  produced,  —  differing  beings  in  different  worlds, 
because  the  conditions  surrounding  life  are  varied. 
Yes,  sire,  the  subtle  element  which  we  call  life  takes 
its  rise  bej'ond  the  visible  worlds ;  creation  divides 
that  principle  according  to  the  centres  into  which  it 
flows ;  and  all  beings,  even  the  lowest,  share  it,  taking 
so  much  as  they  can  take  of  it  at  their  own  risk  and 
peril.  It  is  for  them  to  protect  themselves  from  death,  — 
the  whole  purpose  of  alchemy  lies  there,  sire.  If  man, 
the  most  perfect  animal  on  this  globe,  bore  within  him- 
self a  portion  of  the  divine,  he  would  not  die  ;  but  he 
does  die.  To  solve  this  difficulty,  Socrates  and  his 
school  invented  the  Soul.  I,  the  successor  of  so  many 
great  and  unknown  kings,  the  rulers  of  this  science,  I 
stand  for  the  ancient  theories,  not  the  new.  I  believe 
in  the  transformations  of  matter  which  I  see,  and  not 
in  the  possible  eternit}^  of  a  soul  which  I  do  not  see.  I 
do  not  recognize  that  world  of  the  soul.  If  such  a 
world  existed,  the  substances  whose  magnificent  con- 
junction produced  your  bod}',  and  are  so  dazzling  in 
that  of  Madame,  would  not  resolve  themselves  after 
your  death  each  into  its  own  element,  water  to  water, 


384  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

fire  to  fire,  'metal  to  metal,  just  as  the  elements  of 
m}^  coal,  when  burned,  return  to  their  primitive  mole- 
cules. If  you  believe  that  a  certain  part  of  us  sur- 
vives, we  do  not  survive ;  for  all  that  makes  our 
actual  being  perishes.  Now,  it  is  this  actual  being 
that  I  am  striving  to  continue  beyond  the  limit 
assigned  to  life ;  it  is  our  present  transformation  to 
which  I  wish  to  give  a  greater  duration.  Wh}' !  the 
trees  live  for  centuries,  but  man  lives  only  3'ears,  though 
the  former  are  passive,  the  others  active  ;  the  first  mo- 
tionless and  speechless,  the  others  gifted  with  language 
and  motion.  No  created  thing  should  be  superior  in 
this  world  to  man,  either  in  power  or  in  duration. 
Already  we  are  widening  our  perceptions,  for  we  look 
into  the  stars ;  therefore  ought  to  lengthen  the  dura- 
tion of  our  lives.  I  place  life  before  power.  What 
good  is  power  if  life  escapes  us?  A  wise  man  should 
have  no  other  purpose  than  to  seek,  not  whether  he 
has  some  other  life  within  him,  but  the  secret  springs 
of  his  actual  form,  in  order  that  he  may  prolong  its 
existence  at  his  will.  That  is  the  desire  which  has 
whitened  my  hair;  but  I  walk  boldly  in  the  darkness, 
marshalling  to  the  search  all  those  great  intellects  that 
share  my  faith.  Life  will  some  day  be  ours,  ^ — ours  to 
control." 

''  Ah  !  but  how?  "  cried  the  king,  rising  hastil}'. 

''  The  first  condition  of  our  faith  being  that  the  earth 
belongs  to  man,  you  must  grant  me  that  point,"  said 
Lorenzo. 

''So  be  it!"  said  Charles  de  Valois,  alreadj^  under 
the  spell. 

"  Then,  sire,  if  we  take  God  out  of  this  world,  what 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  385 

remains?  Man.  Let  us  therefore  examine  our  domain. 
The  material  world  is  composed  of  elements ;  these 
elements  are  themselves  principles ;  these  principles 
resolve  themselves  into  an  ultimate  principle,  endowed 
with  motion.  The  number  three  is  the  formula  of 
creation:  Matter,  Motion,  Product.*' 

"  Stop!  '^  cried  the  king, ''  what  proof  is  there  of 
this?" 

''  Do  you  not  see  the  effects  ?  "  replied  Lorenzo.  "  We 
have  tried  in  our  crucibles  the  acorn  which  produces  the 
oak,  and  the  embryo  from  which  grows  a  man  ;  from 
this  tiny  substance  results  a  single  principle,  to  which 
some  force,  some  movement  must  be  given.  Since 
there  is  no  overruling  creator,  this  principle  must  give 
to  itself  tlie  outward  forms  which  constitute  our  world 
—  for  this  phenomenon  of  life  is  the  same  everywhere. 
Yes,  for  metals  as  for  human  beings,  for  plants  as  for 
men,  life  begins  in  an  imperceptible  embryo  wiiich 
develops  itself.  A  primitive  principle  exists  ;  let  us 
seize  it  at  the  point  where  it  begins  to  act  upon  itself, 
where  it  is  a  unit,  where  it  is  a  principle  before  taking 
definite  form,  a  cause  before  being  an  effect ;  we 
must  see  it  single,  without  form,  susceptible  of  clothing 
itself  with  all  the  outward  forms  we  shall  see  it  take. 
When  we  are  face  to  face  with  this  atomic  particle, 
when  we  shall  have  caught  its  movement  at  the  very 
instant  of  motion,  the?i  we  shall  know  the  law ; 
thenceforth  we  are  the  masters  of  life,  masters  who 
can  impose  upon  that  principle  the  form  we  choose,  — 
with  gold  to  win  the  world,  and  the  power  to  make  for 
ourselves  centuries  of  life  in  which  to  enjoy  it !  That 
is  what  my  people  and  I  are  seeking.     All  our  strength, 

23 


386  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

all  onr  thoughts  are  strained  in  that  direction  ;  nothing 
distracts  us  from  it.  One  hour  wasted  on  an}"  other 
passion  is  a  theft  committed  against  our  true  grandeur. 
Just  as  you  have  never  found  yonv  hounds  relinquishing 
the  hunted  animal  or  failing  to  be  in  at  the  death,  so  I 
have  never  seen  one  of  my  patient  disciples  diverted 
from  this  great  quest  b}'  the  love  of  woman  or  a  selfish 
thought.  If  an  adept  seeks  power  and  wealth,  the 
desire  is  instigated  by  our  needs  ;  he  grasps  treasure  as 
a  thirsty  dog  laps  water  while  he  swims  a  stream,  be- 
cause his  crucibles  are  in  need  of  a  diamond  to  melt  or 
an  ingot  of  gold  to  reduce  to  powder.  To  each  his 
own  work.  One  seeks  the  secret  of  vegetable  nature  ; 
he  watches  the  slow  life  of  plants ;  he  notes  the  parity 
of  motion  among  all  the  species,  and  the  parity  of 
their  nutrition  ;  he  finds  everywhere  the  need  of  sun  and 
air  and  water,  to  fecundate  and  nourish  them.  Another 
scrutinizes  the  blood  of  animals.  A  third  studies  the 
laws  of  universal  motion  and  its  connection  with 
celestial  revolutions.  Nearly  all  are  eager  to  struggle 
with  the  intractable  nature  of  metal,  for  while  we  find 
many  principles  in  other  things,  we  find  all  metals  like 
unto  themselves  in  every  particular.  Hence  a  common 
error  as  to  our  work.  Behold  these  patient,  inde- 
fatigable athletes,  ever  vanquished,  yet  ever  returning 
to  the  combat!  Humanity,  sire,  is  behind  us,  as  the 
huntsman  is  behind  your  hounds.  She  cries  to  us : 
'  Make  haste !  neglect  nothing !  sacrifice  all,  even  a 
man,  3'e  who  sacrifice  yourselves  !  Hasten  !  hasten  ! 
Beat  down  the  arms  of  death,  mine  enemy !  '  Yes, 
sire,  we  are  inspired  by  a  hope  which  involves  the  happi- 
ness of  all  coming  generations.     We  have  buried  many 


Catherine  de^  Medici,  387 

men  —  and  what  men! — d3ing  of  this  Search.  Set- 
tins:  foot  in  this  career  we  cannot  w^ork  for  ourselves ; 
we  may  die  without  discovering  the  Secret ;  and  our 
death  is  that  of  those  who  do  not  believe  in  another 
life ;  it  is  this  life  that  we  have  sought,  and  failed  to 
perpetuate.  We  are  glorious  martyrs ;  we  have  the 
welfare  of  the  race  at  heart ;  we  have  failed  but  we 
live  again  in  our  successors.  As  we  go  through  this 
existence  we  discover  secrets  with  which  we  endow  the 
liberal  and  the  mechanical  arts.  From  our  furnaces 
gleam  lights  which  illumine  industrial  enterprises,  and 
perfect  them.  Gunpowder  issued  from  our  alembics ; 
nay,  we  have  mastered  the  lightning.  In  our  persistent 
vigils  lie  political  revolutions." 

''Can  this  be  true?"  cried  the  king,  springing  once 
more  from  his  chair. 

"Why  not?"  said  the  grand-master  of  the  new 
Templars.  ''  Tradidit  mimdum  disputationibus ! 
God  has  given  us  the  earth.  Hear  this  once  more : 
man  is  master  here  below ;  matter  is  his ;  all  forces, 
all  means  are  at  his  disposal.  Who  created  us? 
Motion.  What  power  maintains  life  in  us?  Motion. 
Why  cannot  science  seize  the  secret  of  that  motion? 
Nothing  is  lost  here  below ;  nothing  escapes  from  our 
planet  to  go  elsewhere, — otherwise  the  stars  would 
stumble  over  each  other ;  the  waters  of  the  deluge 
are  still  with  us  in  their  principle,  and  not  a  drop  is 
lost.  Around  us,  above  us,  beneath  us,  are  to  be 
found  the  elements  from  which  have  come  innumerable 
hosts  of  men  who  have  crowded  the  earth  before  and 
since  the  deluge.  What  is  the  secret  of  our  struggle  ? 
To  discover  the  force  that  disunites,  and  then,  then  we 


388  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

shall  discover  that  which  binds.  We  are  the  product 
of  a  visible  manufacture.  When  the  waters  covered 
the  globe  men  issued  from  them  who  found  the  ele- 
ments of  their  life  in  the  crust  of  the  earth,  in  the  air, 
and  in  the  nourishment  derived  from  them.  Earth  and 
air  possess,  therefore,  the  principle  of  human  trans- 
formations ;  those  transformations  take  place  under 
our  eyes,  by  means  of  that  which  is  also  under  our 
eyes.  We  are  able,  therefore,  to  discover  that  secret,  — 
not  limiting  the  effort  of  the  search  to  one  man  or  to 
one  age,  but  devoting  humanit}'  in  its  duration  to  it. 
We  are  engaged,  hand  to  hand,  in  a  struggle  with 
Matter,  into  whose  secret,  I,  the  grand-master  of  our 
order,  seek  to  penetrate.  Christopher  Columbus  gave 
a  world  to  the  King  of  Spain  ;  I  seek  an  ever-living 
people  for  the  King  of  France.  Standing  on  the  con- 
fines whicii  separate  us  from  a  knowledge  of  material 
things,  a  patient  observer  of  atoms,  1  destroy  forms, 
I  dissolve  the  bonds  of  combinations ;  I  imitate  death 
that  I  may  learn  how  to  imitate  life.  I  strike  inces- 
santly at  the  door  of  creation,  and  I  shall  continue  so 
to  strike  till  the  day  of  ni}'  death.  When  I  am  dead  the 
knocker  will  pass  into  other  hands  equally  persistent 
with  those  of  the  mighty  men  who  handed  it  to  me. 
Fabulous  and  uncomprehended  beings,  like  Prometheus, 
Ixion,  Adonis,  Pan,  and  others,  who  have  entered 
into  the  rehgious  beliefs  of  all  countries  and  all 
ages,  prove  to  the  world  that  the  hopes  we  now  em- 
bod}"  were  born  with  the  human  races.  Chaldea,  India, 
Persia,  Egypt,  Greece,  the  Moors,  have  transmitted 
from  one  to  another  Magic,  the  highest  of  all  the 
occult  sciences,    which  holds  within   it  as  a  precious 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  389 

deposit  the  fruits  of  the  studies  of  each  generation.  In 
it  lay  the  tie  that  bound  the  grand  and  majestic 
institution  of  the  Templars.  Sire,  when  one  of  your 
predecessors  burned  the  Templars,  he  burned  men 
onlj^,  —  their  Secret  lived.  The  reconstruction  of  the 
Temple  is  the  vow  of  an  unknown  nation,  a  race  of 
daring  seekers,  whose  faces  are  turned  to  the  Orient  of 
life,  —  all  brothers,  all  inseparable,  all  united  by  one 
idea,  and  stamped  with  the  mark  of  toil.  I  am  the 
sovereign  leader  of  that  people,  sovereign  by  election, 
not  b}'  birth.  I  guide  them  onward  to  a  knowledge  of 
the  essence  of  life.  Grand-master,  Red-Cross-bearers, 
companions,  adepts,  we  forever  follow  the  impercep-* 
tible  molecule  which  still  escapes  our  eyes.  But  soon 
we  sliall  make  for  ourselves  eyes  more  powerful  than 
those  which  Nature  has  given  us ;  we  shall  attain  to  a 
sight  of  the  primitive  atom,  the  corpuscular  element  so 
persistently  sought  by  the  wise  and  learned  of  all  ages 
who  have  preceded  us  in  the  glorious  search.  Sire, 
when  a  man  is  astride  of  that  abyss,  when  he  com- 
mands bold  divers  like  my  disciples,  all  other  human 
interests  are  as  nothing.  Therefore  we  are  not  danger- 
ous. Religious  disputes  and  political  struggles  are  far 
away  from  us ;  we  have  passed  be^'ond  and  above 
them.  No  man  takes  others  by  the  throat  when  his 
whole  strength  is  given  to  a  struggle  with  Nature. 
Besides,  in  our  science  results  are  perceivable  ;  we  can 
measure  effects  and  predict  them  ;  whereas  all  things 
are  uncertain  and  vacillatins:  in  the  struofsfles  of  men 
and  their  selfish  interests.  We  decompose  the  diamond 
in  our  crucibles,  and  we  shall  make  diamonds,  we  shall 
make  gold !     We  shall  impel  vessels  (as  they  have  at 


390  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

Barcelona)  with  fire  and  a  little  water !  We  test  the 
wind,  and  we  shall  make  wind  ;  we  shall  make  light ;  we 
shall  renew  the  face  of  empires  with  new  industries ! 
But  we  shall  never  debase  ourselves  to  mount  a  throne 
to  be  crucified  by  the  peoples  ! " 

In  spite  of  his  strong  determination  not  be  taken  in 
by  Italian  wiles,  the  king,  together  with  his  gentle  mis- 
tress, was  alread}^  caught  and  snared  by  the  ambiguous 
phrases  and  doublings  of  this  pompous  and  humbugging 
loquacity.  The  eyes  of  the  two  lovers  showed  how 
their  minds  were  dazzled  by  the  mysterious  riches  of 
power  thus  displayed  ;  they  saw,  as  it  were,  a  series  of 
subterranean  caverns  filled  with  gnomes  at  their  toil. 
The  impatience  of  their  curiosity  put  to  flight  all 
suspicion. 

"  But,'*  cried  the  king,  'Mf  this  be  so,  3'ou  are  great 
statesmen  who  can  enhghten  us." 

"  No,  sire,*'  said  Lorenzo,  naively. 

"  Why  not?  "  asked  the  king. 

"  Sire,  it  is  not  given  to  any  man  to  foresee  what  will 
happen  when  thousands  of  men  are  gathered  together. 
We  can  tell  what  one  man  will  do,  how  long  he  will 
live,  whether  he  will  be  happy  or  unhappy  ;  but  we  can- 
not tell  what  a  collection  of  wills  ma}'  do  ;  and  to  cal- 
culate the  oscillations  of  their  selfish  interests  is  more 
difficult  still,  for  interests  are  men  plus  things.  We 
can,  in  solitude,  see  the  future  as  a  whole,  and  that  is 
all.  The  Protestantism  that  now  torments  3'ou  will  be 
destro3'ed  in  turn  by  its  material  consequences,  which 
will  turn  to  theories  in  due  time.  Europe  is  at  the 
present  moment  getting  the  better  of  religion  ;  to-mor- 
row it  will  attack  royalty." 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  391 

"  Then  the  Saiut-Bartholomew  was  a  great  con- 
ception ?  '* 

"  Yes,  sire  ;  for  if  the  people  triumph  it  will  have  a 
Saint-Bartholomew  of  its  own.  When  religion  and  ro^'- 
alty  are  destroyed  the  people  will  attack  the  nobles ; 
after  the  nobles,  the  rich.  When  Europe  has  become 
a  mere  troop  of  men  without  consistence  or  stabiUt^', 
because  without  leaders,  it  will  fall  a  prey  to  brutal  con- 
querors. Twenty  times  already  has  the  world  seen  that 
sight,  and  Europe  is  now  preparing  to  renew  it.  Ideas 
consume  the  ages  as  passions  consume  men.  When 
man  is  cured,  humanity  may  possibly  cure  itself.  Sci- 
ence is  the  essence  of  humanity,  and  we  are  its  pontiffs  ; 
whoso  concerns  himself  about  the  essence  cares  little 
about  the  individual  life." 

"  To  what  have  you  attained,  sq  far?  "  asked  the 
king. 

"  We  advance  slowly ;  but  we  lose  nothing  that  we 
have  won." 

"  Then  you  are  the  king  of  sorcerers  ?  "  retorted  the 
king,  piqued  at  being  of  no  account  in  the  presence  of 
this  man. 

The  majestic  grand-master  of  the  Rosicrucians  cast  a 
look  on  Charles  IX.  which  withered  him. 

''You  are  the  king  of  men/'  he  said;  "I  am  the 
king  of  ideas.  If  we  were  sorcerers,  you  would  already 
have  burned  us.     We  have  had  our  martyrs." 

"  But  b}^  what  means  are  you  able  to  cast  nativi- 
ties?" persisted  the  king.  "How  did  you  know  that 
the  man  who  came  to  jour  window  last  night  was  King 
of  France?  What  power  authorized  one  of  you  to  tell 
my  mother  the  fate  of  her  three  sons  ?     Can  you,  grand- 


392  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

master  of  an  art  which  claims  to  mould  the  world, 
can  you  tell  me  what  my  mother  is  planning  at  this 
moment  ?  " 

"Yes,  sire." 

This  answer  was  given  before  Cosmo  could  pull  his 
brother's  robe  to  enjoin  silence. 

"  Do  3'ou  know  why  my  brother,  the  King  of  Poland, 
has  returned  ?  " 

'*  Yes,  sire." 

4*  Why?" 

"  To  take  your  place." 

"  Our  most  cruel  enemies  are  our  nearest  in  blood  !  " 
exclaimed  the  king,  violently',  rising  and  walking  about 
the  room  with  hast}'  steps.  "Kings  have  neither 
brothers,  nor  sons,  nor  mothers.  Colign}'  was  right; 
my  murderers  are.  not  among  the  Huguenots,  but  in  the 
Louvre.  You  are  either  impostors  or  regicides!  — 
Jacob,  call  Solern." 

"Sire,"  said  Marie  Touchet,  "the  Ruggieri  have 
your  word  as  a  gentleman.  You  wanted  to  taste  of 
the  fruit  of  the  tree  of  knowledge ;  do  not  complain  of 
its  bitterness." 

The  king  smiled,  with  an  expression  of  bitter  self- 
contempt  ;  he  thought  his  material  royalty  pettj^  in 
presence  of  the  august  intellectual  roj'alty  of  Lorenzo 
Ruggiero.  Charles  IX.  knew  that  he  could  scarcely'' 
govern  France,  but  this  grand-master  of  Rosicrucians 
ruled  a  submissive  and  intelligent  world. 

"Answer  me  truthfull}' ;  I  pledge  my  word  as  a 
gentleman  that  3'our  answer,  in  case  it  confesses  dread- 
ful crimes,  shall  be  as  if  it  were  never  uttered,"  resumed 
the  king.     "  Do  3'ou  deal  with  poisons?" 


I 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  393 

''  To  discover  that  which  gives  life,  we  must  also  have 
full  knowledge  of  that  which  kills." 

"  Do  you  possess  the  secret  of  many  poisons  ? " 

"Yes,  sire, — in  theory,  but  not  in  practice.  We 
understand  all  poisons,  but  do  not  use  them." 

"  Has  my  mother  asked  you  for  an}'  ?  "  said  the  king, 
breathlessly. 

"  Sire,"  replied  Lorenzo,  "  Queen  Catherine  is  too 
able  a  woman  to  employ  such  means.  She  knows  that 
the  sovereign  who  poisons  dies  by  poison.  The  Bor- 
gias,  also  Bianca  Capello,  Grand  Duchess  of  Tuscan}', 
are  noted  examples  of  the  dangers  of  that  miserable 
resource.  All  things  are  known  at  courts ;  there  can 
be  no  concealment.  It  may  be  possible  to  kill  a  poor 
devil  —  and  what  is  the  good  of  that?  —  but  to  aim  at 
great  men  cannot  be  done  secretly.  Who  shot  Co- 
ligny?  It  could  only  be  you,  or  the  queen-mother,  or 
the  Guises.  Not  a  soul  is  doubtful  of  that.  Believe 
me,  poison  cannot  be  twice  used  with  impunity  in  state- 
craft. Princes  have  successors.  As  for  other  men,  if, 
like  Luther,  they  are  sovereigns  through  the  power  of 
ideas,  their  doctrines  are  not  killed  by  killing  them. 
The  queen  is  from  Florence  ;  she  knows  that  poison 
should  never  be  used  except  as  a  weapon  of  personal 
revenge.  My  brother,  who  has  not  been  parted  from 
her  since  her  arrival  in  France,  knows  the  grief 
that  Madame  Diane  caused  your  mother.  But  she 
never  thought  of  poisoning  her,  though  she  might  eas- 
ily have  done  so.  What  could  your  father  have  said  ? 
Never  had  a  woman  a  better  right  to  do  it ;  and  she 
could  have  done  it  with  impunity ;  but  Madame  de 
Valentinois  still  lives.'* 


I 


394  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

*'  But  what  of  those  waxen  images?  "  asked  the  king. 

"  Sire,"  said  Cosmo,  "  these  tilings  are  so  absolutely 
harmless  that  we  lend  ourselves  to  the  practice  to 
satisfy  blind  passions,  just  as  ph3'sicians  give  bread 
pills'  to  imaginar}'  invalids.  A  disappointed  woman 
fancies  that  by  stabbing  the  heart  of  a  wax-figure  she 
has  brought  misfortunes  upon  the  head  of  the  man  who 
has  been  unfaithful  to  her.  What  harm  in  that  ?  Besides, 
it  is  our  revenue." 

"  The  pope  sells  indulgences,"  said  Lorenzo  Ruggiero, 
smiling. 

''Has  my  mother  practised  these  spells  with  waxen 
images?** 

"  What  good  would  such  harmless  means  be  to  one 
who  has  the  actual  power  to  do  all  things?" 

"  Has  Queen  Catherine  the  power  to  save  3'ou  at  this 
moment?"  inquired  the  king,  in  a  threatening  manner. 

"  Sire,  we  are  not  in  any  danger,"  replied  Lorenzo, 
tranquill}'.  ''  I  knew  before  I  came  into  this  house 
that  I  should  leave  it  safel}',  just  as  I  know  that  the 
king  will  be  evilly  disposed  to  my  brother  Cosmo  a 
few  weeks  hence.  My  brother  may  run  some  danger 
then,  but  he  will  escape  it.  If  the  king  reigns  by  the 
sword,  he  also  reigns  by  justice,"  added  the  old  man, 
alluding  to  the  famous  motto  on  a  medal  struck  for 
Charles  IX. 

"  You  know  all,  and  you  know  that  I  shall  die  soon, 
which  is  very  well,"  said  the  king,  hiding  his  anger 
under  nervous  impatience  ;  "  but  how  will  my  brother 
die,  —  he  whom  you  say  is  to  be  Henri  III.  ?  " 

"  By  a  violent  death.'* 

''  And  the  Due  d'Alengon?" 


I 


I 


Catherine  cle'  Medici.  395 

"  He  will  not  reign." 

"  Then  Henri  de  Bourbon  will  be  king  of  France?'* 

"Yes,  sire." 

"How  will  be  die?'' 

"  J3y  a  violent  death." 

"  When  I  am  dead  what  will  become  of  madame?" 
asked  the  king,  motioning  to  Marie  Touchet. 

"  Madame  de  Belleville  will  marrv,  sire." 

"  You  are  impostors  !  "  cried  Marie  Touchet.  "  Send 
them  awa}^,  sire." 

"  Dearest,  the  Ruggieri  have  my  word  as  a  gentle- 
man," replied  the  king,  smiling.  ''  Will  madame  have 
children?"  he  continued. 

"Yes,  sire;  and  madame  will  live  to  be  more  than 
eighty  years  old." 

"Shall  I  order  them  to  be  hanged?"  said  the  king 
to  his  mistress.  "But  about  my  son,  the  Comte 
d'Auvergne  ?  "  he  continued,  going  into  the  next  room 
to  fetch  the  child. 

"  Why  did  you  tell  him  I  should  marry?"  said  Marie 
to  the  two  brothers,  the  moment  they  were  alone. 

"  Madame,"  replied  Lorenzo,  with  dignity,  "  the 
king  bound  us  to  tell  the  truth,  and  we  have  told  it." 

"  Is  that  true?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"As  true  as  it  is  that  the  governor  of  the  city  of 
Orleans  is  madly  in  love  with  you." 

"  But  I  do  not  love  him,"  she  cried. 

"  That  is  true,  madame,"  replied  Lorenzo  ;  "  but  your 
horoscope  declares  that  you  will  marry  the  man  who  is 
in  love  with  you  at  the  present  time." 

"Can  you  not  lie  a  little  for  m3'sake?"  she  said 
smiling ;  "  for  if  the  king  believes  your  predictions  —  " 


396  Catherine  de'  Medici 

"Is  it  not  also  necessary  that  he  should  believe  in 
our  innocence?"  interrupted  Cosmo,  with  a  wil}'  glance 
at  the  young  favorite.  "  The  precautions  taken  against 
us  by  the  king  have  made  us  think  during  the  time  we 
have  spent  in  your  charming  jail  that  the  occult 
sciences  have  been  traduced  to  him." 

"  Do  not  feel  uneas}^"  replied  Mar3\  "  I  know  him  ; 
his  suspicions  are  at  an  end." 

"We  are  innocent,"  said  the  grand-master  of  the 
Rosicrucians,  proudly. 

"So  much  the  better  for  you,"  said  Marie,  "for 
3'our  laboratory,  and  yout  retorts  and  phials  are  now 
being  searched  b}'  order  of  the  king." 

The  brothers  looked  at  each  other  smiling.  Marie 
Touchet  took  that  smile  for  one  of  innocence,  though  it 
reall}^  signified  :  "  Poor  fools  !  can  they  suppose  that  if 
we  brew  poisons,  we  do  not  hide  them?" 

"  Where  are  the  king's  searchers?" 

"  In  Rene's  laboratory,"  replied  Marie. 

Again  the  brothers  glanced  at  each  other  with  a  look 
which  said  :   "The  hotel  de  Soissons  is  inviolable." 

The  king  had  so  completely  forgotten  his  suspicions 
that  when,  as  he  took  his  boy  in  his  arms,  Jacob  gave 
him  a  note  from  Chapelain,  he  opened  it  with  the 
eertaint}'  of  finding  in  his  phj-sician's  report  that  noth- 
ing had  been  discovered  in  the  laboratory  but  what 
related  exclusively'  to  alchemj'.  * 

"Will  he  live  a  happ}^  man?"  asked  the  king, 
presenting  his  son  to  the  two  alchemists. 

"  That  is  a  question  which  concerns  Cosmo,"  replied 
Lorenzo,  signing  to  his  brother. 

Cosmo  took  the  tiny  hand  of  the  child,  and  examined 
it  carefully. 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  397 


"Monsieur/*  said  Charles  IX.  to  the  old  man,  "if 
you  find  it  necessary  to  deny  the  existence  of  the  soul 
in  order  to  believe  in  the  possibility  of  your  enterprise, 
will  you  explain  to  me  why  3'ou  should  doubt  what 
your  power  does?  Thought,  which  you  seek  to  nullify, 
is  the  certaint}',  the  torch  which  lights  your  researches. 
Ha !  ha !  is  not  that  the  motion  of  a  spirit  within  you, 
while  3'ou  deny  such  motion  ?  "  cried  the  king,  pleased 
with  his  argument,  and  looking  triumphantly  at  his 
mistress. 

"  Thought,"  replied  Lorenzo  Ruggiero,  "  is  the  exer- 
cise of  an  inward  sense ;  just  as  the  facult}*  of  seeing 
several  objects  and  noticing  their  size  and  color  is  an 
effect  of  sight.  It  has  no  connection  with  what  people 
choose  to  call  another  life.  Thought  is  a  facult}'  which 
ceases,  with  the  forces  which  produced  it,  when  we  cease 
to  breathe." 

"You  are  logical,"  said  the  king,  surprised.  '^But 
alchemy  must  therefore  be  an  atheistical  science." 

"  A  materialist  science,  sire,  which  is  a  very  dif- 
ferent thing.  Materialism  is  the  outcome  of  Indian 
doctrines,  transmitted  through  the  m3'steries  of  Isis  to 
Chaldea  and  Egypt,  and  brought  to  Greece  by  Pythag- 
oras, one  of  the  demigods  of  humanit3^  His  doctrine 
of  re- incarnation  is  the  mathematics  of  materialism,  the 
vital  law  of  its  phases.  To  each  of  the  different  crea- 
tions which  form  the  terrestrial  creation  belongs  the 
power  of  retarding  the  movement  which  sweeps  on 
the  rest." 

"  Alchem3^  is  the  science  of  sciences  !  "  cried  Charles 
IX.,  enthusiastically.     '^I  want  to  see  3"ou  at  work." 

'^  Whenever  it  pleases  3'ou,  sire ;  3'ou  cannot  be 
more  interested  than  Madame  the  Queen-mother." 


398  Oatherine  de'  Medici. 

"  All !  so  this  is  whj'  she  cares  for  3^ou?  *'  exclaimed 
the  king. 

"  The  house  of  Medici  has  secretl}^  protected  our 
Search  for  more  than  a  centur\'." 

"Sire,"  said  Cosmo,  "this  child  will  live  nearly  a 
hundred  years ;  he  will  have  trials  ;  nevertheless,  he 
will  be  happ3"  and  honored,  because  he  has  in  his  veins 
the  blood  of  the  Valois." 

"  I  will  go  and  see  3'ou  in  your  laboratorj',  mes- 
sieurs," said  the  king,  his  good-humor  quite  restored. 
"  You  ma}'  now  go." 

The  brothers  bowed  to  Marie  and  to  the  king  and 
then  withdrew.  The\'  went  down  the  steps  of  the  por- 
tico gravel}',  without  looking  or  speaking  to  each  other ; 
neither  did  they  turn  their  faces  to  the  windows  as  they 
crossed  the  courtyard,  feeling  sure  that  the  king's  e3'e 
watched  them.  But  as  the}'  passed  sideways  out  of  the 
gate  into  the  street  they  looked  back  and  saw  Charles  IX. 
gazing  after  them  from  a  window.  When  the  alchemist 
and  the  astrologer  were  safely  in  the  rue  de  TAutruche, 
they  cast  their  eyes  before  and  behind  them,  to  see  if 
they  were  followed  or  overheard ;  then  they  continued 
their  way  to  the  moat  of  the  Louvre  without  uttering  a 
word.  Once  there,  however,  feeling  themselves  securely 
alone,  Lorenzo  said  to  Cosmo,  in  the  Tuscan  Italian 
of  that  day  :  — 

"  Affe  d'Iddio  !  how  we  have  fooled  him  !  " 

"  Much  good  may  it  do  him  ;  let  him  make  what  he 
can  of  it !  "  said  Cosmo.  "  We  have  given  him  a  help- 
ing hand,  —  whether  the  queen  pays  it  back  to  us  or 
not." 

Some  days  after  this  scene,  which  struck  the  king's 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  399 

mistress  as  forcibly  as  it  did  the  king,  Marie  suddenly 
exclaimed,  in  one  of  those  moments  when  the  soul 
seems,  as  it  were,  disengaged  from  the  body  in  the 
plenitude  of  happiness  :  — 

''Charles,  I  understand  Lorenzo  Ruggiero ;  but  did 
3'ou  observe  that  Cosmo  said  nothing  ?  " 

"  True,"  said  the  king,  struck  by  that  sudden  light. 
"  After  all,  there  was  as  much  falsehood  as  truth  in 
what  they  said.  Those  Italians  are  as  supple  as  the 
silk  they  weave." 

This  suspicion  explains  the  rancor  which  the  king 
showed  against  Cosmo  when  the  trial  of  La  Mole  and 
Coconnas  took  place  a  few  weeks  later.  Finding  him 
one  of  the  agents  in  that  conspiracy,  he  thought  the 
Italians  had  tricked  him ;  for  it  was  proved  that  his 
mother's  astrologer  was  not  exclusively  concerned  with 
stars,  the  powder  of  projection,  and  the  primitive  atom. 
Lorenzo  had  bv  that  time  left  the  kinojdom. 

In  spite  of  the  incredulity  which  most  persons  show 
in  these  matters,  the  events  which  followed  the  scene 
we  have  narrated  confirmed  the  predictions  of  the 
Euggieri. 

The  king  died  within  three  months. 

Charles  de  Gondi  followed  Charles  IX.  to  the  grave, 
as  had  been  foretold  to  him  jestingly  by  his  brother  the 
Marechal  de  Retz,  a  friend  of  the  Ruggieri,  who 
believed  in  their  predictions. 

Marie  Touchet  married  Charles  de  Balzac,  Marquis 
d'Entragues,  the  governor  of  Orleans,  by  whom  she  had 
two  daughters.  The  most  celebrated  of  these  daughters, 
the  half-sister  of  the  Comte  d'Auvergne,  was  the  mis- 
tress of  Henri  IV.,  and  it  was  she  who  endeavored,  at 


400  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

the  time  of  Biron's  conspiracy,  to  put  her  brother  on  the 
throne  of  France  by  driving  out  the  Bourbons. 

The  Comte  d'Auvergne,  who  became  the  Due 
d'Angouleme,  lived  into  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.  He 
coined  money  on  his  estates  and  altered  the  inscrip- 
tions ;  but  Louis  XIV.  let  him  do  as  he  pleased,  out  of 
respect  for  the  blood  of  the  Valois. 

Cosmo  Ruggiero  lived  till  the  middle  of  the  reign  of 
Louis  XIII. ;  he  witnessed  the  fall  of  the  house  of  the 
Medici  in  France,  also  that  of  the  Concini.  History 
has  taken  pains  to  record  that  he  died  an  atheist,  that 
is,  a  materialist. 

The  Marquise  d'Entragues  was  over  eight}"  when  she 
died. 

The  famous  Comte  de  Saint-Germain,  who  made  so 
much  noise  under  Louis  XIV.,  was  a  pupil  of  Lorenzo 
and  Cosmo  Ruggiero.  This  celebrated  alchemist  lived 
to  be  one  hundred  and  thirt}'  3'ears  old,  —  an  age  which 
some  biographers  give  to  Marion  de  Lorme.  He  must 
have  heard  from  the  Ruggieri  the  various  incidents  of 
the  Saint- Bartholomew  and  of  the  reigns  of  the  Valois 
kings,  which  he  afterwards  recounted  in  the  first  per- 
son singular,  as  though  he  had  played  a  part  in  them. 
The  Comte  de  Saint-Germain  was  the  last  of  the  alche- 
mists who  knew  how  to  clearly  explain  their  science ; 
but  he  left  no  writings.  The  cabalistic  doctrine  pre- 
sented in  this  Study  is  that  taught  bj'  this  mysterious 
personage. 

And  here,  behold  a  strange  thing !  Three  lives,  that 
of  the  old  man  from  whom  I  have  obtained  these  facts, 
that  of  the  Comte  de  Saint-Germain,  and  that  of  Cosmo 
Ruggiero,  suffice  to  cover  the  whole  of  European  history 


Catherine  de*  Medici,  401 

from  Frangois  I.  to  Napoleon  !  Only  fiflt}^  such  lives 
are  needed  to  reach  back  to  the  first  known  period  of 
the  world.  "What  are  fifty  generations  for  the  study 
of  the  mysteries  of  life  ?  "  said  the  Comte  de  Saint- 
Germain. 


402  Catherine  dd  Medici, 


PART     THIRD. 


TWO    DREAMS. 


In  1786  Bodard  de  Saint-James,  treasurer  of  the 
navy,  excited  more  attention  and  gossip  as  to  his  hix- 
ury  than  any  other  financier  in  Paris.  At  this  period 
he  was  building  his  famous  "  FoUe"  at  Neuill}',  and  his 
wife  had  just  bought  a  set  of  feathers  to  crown  the 
tester  of  her  bed,  the  price  of  which  had  been  too  great 
for  even  the  queen  to  pay. 

Bodard  owned  the  magnificent  mansion  in  the  place 
Vendome,  which  t\\Q  fermier-general^  Dange,  had  lately 
been  forced  to  leave.  That  celebrated  epicurean  was 
now  dead,  and  on  the  day  of  his  interment  his  intimate 
friend.  Monsieur  de  Bievre,  raised  a  laugh  by  sa}-- 
ing  that  he  "  could  now  pass  thi'ough  the  place  Ven- 
dome without  danger.''  This  allusion  to  the  hellish 
gambUng  which  went  on  in  the  dead  man's  house, 
was  his  only  funeral  oration.  The  house  is  opposite 
to  the  Chancellerie. 

To  end  in  a  few  words  the  history  of  Bodard,  — he 
became  a  poor  man,  having  failed  for  fourteen  millions 
after  the  bankruptcy  of  the  Prince  de  Guemenee.  The 
stupidity  he  showed  in  not  anticipating  that "  serenissime 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  403 

disaster,"  to  use  the  expression  of  Lebrun  Pindare,  was 
the  reason  whj'  no  notice  was  taken  of  his  misfortunes. 
He  died,  like  Bourvalais,  Bouret,  and  so  many  others, 
in  a  garret. 

Madame  Bodard  de  Saint-James  was  ambitious,  and 
professed  to  receive  none  but  persons  of  quality  at  her 
house,  —  an  old  absurdity  which  is  ever  new.  To  her 
thinking,  even  the  parliamentary  judges  were  of  small 
account ;  she  wished  for  titled  persons  in  her  salons,  or 
at  all  events,  those  who  had  the  right  of  entrance  at 
court.  To  say  that  many  cordons  hleus  were  seen  at 
her  house  would  be  false ;  but  it  is  quite  certain  that 
she  managed  to  obtain  the  good- will  and  civilities  of 
several  members  of  the  house  of  Rohan,  as  was  proved 
later  in  the  affair  of  the  too  celebrated  diamond  neck- 
lace. 

One  evening  —  it  was,  I  think,  in  August,  1786  —  I 
was  much  surprised  to  meet  in  the  salons  of  this  lady, 
so  exacting  in  the  matter  of  gentilit}',  two  new  faces 
which  struck  me  as  belonging  to  men  of  inferior  social 
position.  She  came  to  me  presently  in  the  embrasure 
of  a  window  where*  I  had  ensconced  myself. 

"Tell  me,"  I  said  to  her,  with  a  glance  toward  one 
of  the  new-comers,  "  who  and  what  is  that  queer 
species?     Why  do  you  have  that  kind  of  thing  here?" 

"  He  is  charming." 

"  Do  you  see  him  through  a  prism  of  love,  or  am  I 
blind?" 

"  You  are  not  blind,"  she  said,  laughing.  ''  The 
man  is  as  ugly  as  a  caterpillar ;  but  he  has  done  me 
the  most  immense  service  a  woman  can  receive  from 


a  man." 


404  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

As  I  looked  at  her  rather  maliciously  she  hastened 
to  add:  ''He's  a  physician,  and  he  has  completely 
cured  me  of  those  odious  red  blotches  which  spoiled  my 
complexion  and  made  me  look  like  a  peasant  woman." 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders  with  disgust. 

"  He  is  a  charlatan." 

"No,"  she  said,  "he  is  the  surgeon  of  the  court 
pages.  He  has  a  fine  intellect,  I  assure  you ;  in  fact, 
he  is  a  writer,  and  a  very  learned  man." 

"  Heavens!  if  his  style  resembles  his  face!"  I  said 
scojBingl}'.     "  But  who  is  the  other?" 

"What  other?" 

"That  spruce,  affected  little  popinjay  over  there,  who 
looks  as  if  he  had  been  drinking  verjuice." 

"He  is  rather  a  well-born  man,"  she  replied;  "just 
arrived  from  some  province,  I  forget  which  —  oh  !  from 
Artois.  He  is  sent  here  to  conclude  an  affair  in  which 
the  Cardinal  de  Rohan  is  interested,  and  his  Eminence 
in  person  has  just  presented  him  to  Monsieur  de  Saint- 
James.  It  seems  thej'  have  both  chosen  my  husband 
as  arbitrator.  The  provincial  did  n't  show  his  wisdom 
in  that ;  but  fancy  what  simpletons  the  people  who 
sent  him  here  must  be  to  trust  a  case  to  a  man  of  his 
sort !  He  is  as  meek  as  a  sheep  and  as  timid  as  a 
girl.     His  Eminence  is  ver}'  kind  to  him." 

"  What  is  the  nature  of  the  affair?" 

"  Oh  !  a  question  of  three  hundred  thousand  francs." 

"  Then  the  man  is  a  lawyer?"  I  said,  with  a  slight 
shrug. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied. 

Somewhat  confused  by  this  humiliating  avowal, 
Madame  Bodard  returned  to  her  place  at  a  faro-table. 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  405 

All  the  tables  were  full.  I  had  nothing  to  do,  no 
one  to  speak  to,  and  I  had  just  lost  two  thousand 
crowns  to  Monsieur  de  Laval.  I  flung  myself  on  a 
sofa  near  the  fireplace.  Presently,  if  there  was  ever  a 
man  on  earth  most  utterly  astonished  it  was  I,  when,  on 
looking  up,  I  saw,  seated  on  another  sofa  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  fireplace,  Monsieur  de  Calonne,  the  comp- 
troller-general. He  seemed  to  be  dozing,  or  else  he 
was  buried  in  one  of  those  deep  meditations  which  over- 
take statesmen.  When  I  pointed  out  the  famous  min- 
ister to  Beaumarchais,  who  happened  to  come  near  me 
at  that  moment,  the  father  of  Figaro  explained  the 
mystery  of  his  presence  in  that  house  without  uttering 
a  word.  He  pointed  first  at  my  head,  then  at  Bodard's 
with  a  malicious  gesture  which  consisted  in  turning  to 
each  of  us  two  fingers  of  his  hand  while  he  kept  the 
others  doubled  up.  My  first  impulse  was  to  rise  and 
say  something  rousing  to  Calonne  ;  then  I  paused,  first, 
because  I  thought  of  a  trick  I  could  play  the  statesman, 
and  secondl}',  because  Beaumarchais  caught  me  famil- 
iarly' b}^  the  hand. 

*'  Why  do  3'ou  do  that,  monsieur?"  I  said. 

He  winked  at  the  comptroller. 

''  Don't  wake  him,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice.  ''  A  man 
is  happy  when  asleep." 

"  Pray,  is  sleep  a  financial  scheme?  "  I  whispered. 

"  Indeed,  yes  !  "  said  Calonne,  who  had  guessed  our 
words  from  the  mere  motion  of  our  lips.  "Would 
to  God  we  could  sleep  long,  and  then  the  awakening 
you  are  about  to  see  would  never  happen." 

"  Monseigneur,"  said  the  dramatist,  "I  must  thank 
you  —  " 


406  Catherine  de^  Medici, 

'Tor  what?" 

"  Monsieur  de  Mirabeau  has  started  for  Berlin.  I 
don't  know  whether  we  might  not  both  have  drowned 
ourselves  in  that  affair  of  '  les  Eaux.' " 

"  You  have  too  much  memor}-,  and  too  little  grati- 
tude," replied  the  minister,  annoyed  at  having  one  of 
his  secrets  divulged  in  my  presence. 

"  Possibl}',"  said  Beaumarchais,  cut  to  the  quick; 
''  but  I  have  millions  that  can  balance  many  a  score." 

Calonne  pretended  not  to  hear. 

It  was  long  past  midnight  when  the  play  ceased. 
Supper  was  announced.  There  were  ten  of  us  at  table  : 
Bodard  and  his  wife,  Calonne,  Beaumarchais,  the  two 
strange  men,  two  pretty  women,  whose  names  I  will 
not  give  here,  2i  fermier-generaly  Lavoisier,  and  myself. 
Out  of  thirty  guests  who  were  in  the  salon  when  I 
entered  it,  onl}-  these  ten  remained.  The  two  queer 
species  did  not  consent  to  sta}^  until  they  were  urged 
to  do  so  by  Madame  Bodard,  who  probably  thought  she 
was  paying  her  obhgations  to  the  surgeon  by  giving 
him  something  to  eat,  and  pleasing  her  husband  (with 
whom  she  appeared,  I  don't  preciselj^  know  wh}',  to  be 
coquetting)  b}^  inviting  the  lawyer. 

The  supper  began  b}-  being  frightfully  dull.  The  two 
strangers  and  the  ferniier- general  oppressed  us.  I 
made  a  sign  to  Beaumarchais  to  intoxicate  the  son  of 
Escnlapius,  who  sat  on  his  right,  giving  him  to  under- 
stand that  I  would  do  the  same  b}-  the  law3'er,  who  was 
next  to  me.  As  there  seemed  no  other  wa}^  to  amuse 
ourselves,  and  it  offered  a  chance  to  draw  out  the  two 
men,  who  were  already  sufficiently  singular,  Monsieur 
de  Calonne  smiled  at  our  project.    The  ladies  present 


Catherine  de*  Medici,  407 

also  shared  in  the  bacchanal  conspiracy,  and  the  wine 
of  Sillery  crowned  our  glasses  again  and  again  with  its 
silvery  foam.  The  surgeon  was  easily  managed ;  but 
at  the  second  glass  which  I  offered  to  my  neighbor  the 
lawyer,  he  told  me  with  the  frigid  politeness  of  a 
usurer  that  he  should  drink  no  more. 

At  this  instant  Madame  de  Saint-James  chanced  to 
introduce,  I  scarcely  know  how,  the  topic  of  the  marvel- 
lous suppers  to  the  Comte  de  Cagliostro,  given  by  the 
Cardinal  de  Rohan.  My  mind  was  not  ver\^  attentive  to 
what  the  mistress  of  the  house  was  saying,  because  I  was 
watching  with  extreme  curiosity  the  pinched  and  livid 
face  of  my  little  neighbor,  whose  principal  feature  was 
a  turned-up  and  at  the  same  time  pointed  nose,  which 
made  him,  at  times,  look  very  like  a  weasel.  Suddenly 
his  cheeks  flushed  as  he  caught  the  words  of  a  dispute 
between  Madame  de  Saint-James  and  Monsieur  de 
Calonne. 

"  But  I  assure  you,  monsieur,"  she  was  saying,  with 
an  imperious  air,  "  that  I  saw  Cleopatra,  the  queen." 

''I  can  believe  it,  madame,"  said  mj-  neighbor,  "for 
I  myself  have  spoken  to  Catherine  de'  Medici." 

''  Oh  !  oh  !  "  exclaimed  Monsieur  de  Calonne. 

The  words  uttered  b\"  the  little  provincial  were  said 
in  a  voice  of  strange  sonorousness,  if  I  may  be  per- 
mitted to  borrow  that  expression  from  the  science  of 
physics.  This  sudden  clearness  of  intonation,  coming 
from  a  man  who  had  hitherto  scarcely  spoken,  and  then 
in  a  low  and  modulated  tone,  surprised  all  present 
exceedingly. 

''Why,  he  is  talking!"  said  the  surgeon,  who  was 
now  in  a  satisfactory  state  of  drunkenness,  addressing 
Beaumarchais. 


408  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

"  His  neighbor  must  have  pulled  his  wires,"  replied 
the  satirist. 

My  man  flushed  again  as  he  overheard  the  "words, 
though  tliey  were  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"And  pra}^,  how  was  the  late  queen  ?  "  asked  Calonne, 
jestingl\'. 

"I  will  not  swear  that  the '"person  with  whom  I 
supped  last  night  at  the  house  of  Cardinal  de  Rohan 
was  Catherine  de'  Medici  in  person.  That  miracle 
would  justl}"  seem  impossible  to  Christians  as  well  as 
to  philosophers,"  said  the  little  law^-er,  resting  the  tips 
of  his  fingers  on  the  table,  and  leaning  back  in  his 
chair  as  if  preparing  to  make  a  speech.  "  Never- 
theless, I  do  assert  that  the  woman  I  saw  resembled 
Catherine  de'  Medici  as  closelj'  as  though  they  were 
twin-sisters.  She  was  dressed  in  a  black  velvet  gown, 
precisely  like  that  of  the  queen  in  the  well-known  por- 
trait which  belongs  to  the  king ;  on  her  head  was  the 
pointed  velvet  coif,  which  is  characteristic  of  her ;  and 
she  had  the  wan  complexion,  and  the  features  we  all 
know  well.  I  could  not  help  betra^'ing  my  surprise  to 
his  Eminence.  The  suddenness  of  the  evocation  seemed 
to  me  all  the  more  amazing  because  Monsieur  de  Cagli- 
ostro  had  been  unable  to  divine  the  name  of  the  person 
with  whom  I  wished  to  communicate.  I  was  con- 
founded. The  magical  spectacle  of  a  supper,  where  one 
of  the  illustrious  women  of  past  times  presented  herself, 
took  from  me  my  presence  of  mind.  I  listened  without 
daring  to  question.  When  I  roused  myself  about  mid- 
night from  the  spell  of  that  magic,  I  was  inclined  to 
doubt  my  senses.  But  even  this  great  marvel  seemed 
natural  in  comparison  with  the  singular  hallucination  to 


Catherine  de*  Medici,  409 

which  I  was  presently  subjected.  I  don't  know  in  what 
words  I  can  describe  to  you  the  state  of  my  senses. 
But  I  declare,  in  the  sincerit}^  of  my  heart,  I  no  longer 
wonder  that  souls  have  been  found  weak  enough,  or 
strong  enough,  to  believe  in  the  mysteries  of  magic  and 
and  in  the  power  of  demons.  For  myself,  until  I  am 
better  informed,  I  regard  as  possible  the  apparitions 
which  Cardan  and  other  thaumaturgists  describe." 

These  words,  said  with  indescribable  eloquence  of 
tone,  were  of  a  nature  to  rouse  the  curiosity  of  all 
present.  We  looked  at  the  speaker  and  kept  silence ; 
our  eyes  alone  betrayed  our  interest,  their  pupils  reflect- 
ins:  the  light  of  the  wax-candles  in  the  sconces.  Bv  dint 
of  observing  this  unknown  little  man,  I  fancied  I  could 
see  the  pores  of  his  skin,  especially  those  of  his  fore- 
head, emitting  an  inward  sentiment  with  which  he  was 
saturated.  This  man,  apparently  so  cold  and  formal, 
seemed  to  contain  within  him  a  burning  altar,  the 
flames  of  which  beat  down  upon  us. 

"I  do  not  know,"  he  continued,  "if  the  Figure 
evoked  followed  me  invisibly,  but  no  sooner  had  my 
head  touched  the  pillow  in  my  own  chamber  than  I 
saw  once  more  that  grand  Shade  of  Catherine  rise 
before  me.  I  felt  myself,  instinctively,  in  a  luminous 
sphere,  and  my  eyes,  fastened  upon  the  queen  with 
intolerable  fixity,  saw  naught  but  her.  Suddenly',  she 
bent  toward  me." 

At  these  words  the  ladies  present  made  a  unanimous 
movement  of  curiosit}'. 

"  But,"  continued  the  lawyer,  "I  am  not  sure  that  I 
ought  to  relate  what  happened,  for  though  I  am  inclined 
to  believe  it  was  all  a  dream,  it  concerns  grave  matters. 


410  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

"  Of  religion?"  asked  Beaumarchais. 

"  If  there  is  an}'  impropriety,"  remarked  Cak)nne, 
"  these  ladies  will  excuse  it." 

"  It  relates  to  government,"  replied  the  lawj'er. 

"  Goon,  then,"  said  the  minister ;  ''  Voltaire,  Diderot, 
and  their  fellows  have  alread}'  begun  to  tutor  us  on  that 
subject." 

Calonne  became  ver}^  attentive,  and  his  neighbor, 
Madame  de  Genlis,  rather  anxious.  The  little  provin- 
cial still  hesitated,  and  Beaumarchais  said  to  him  some- 
what roughl}^ :  — 

*'  Go  on,  mmtre,  go  on  !  Don't  3'ou  know  that  when 
the  laws  allow  but  little  liberty  the  people  seek  their 
freedom  in  their  morals?" 

Thus  adjured,  the  small  man  told  his  tale :  — 

"  Whether  it  was  that  certain  ideas  were  fermenting 
in  my  brain,  or  that  some  strange  power  impelled  me, 
I  said  to  her :  ^  Ah  !  raadame,  you  committed  a  very 
great  crime.'  'What  crime?*  she  asked  in  a  grave 
voice.  '  The  crime  for  which  the  signal  was  given  from 
the  clock  of  the  palace  on  the  24th  of  August,'  I  an- 
swered. She  smiled  disdainfully,  and  a  few  deep 
wrinkles  appeared  on  her  pallid  cheeks.  'You  call 
that  a  crime  which  was  onl}-  a  misfortune,'  she  said. 
'The  enterprise,  being  ill-managed,  failed;  the  benefit 
we  expected  for  France,  for  Europe,  for  the  Catholic 
Church  was  lost.  Impossible  to  foresee  that.  Our 
orders  were  ill  executed ;  we  did  not  find  as  many 
Montlucs  as  we  needed.  Posteritj^  will  not  hold  us 
responsible  for  the  failure  of  communications,  which 
deprived  our  work  of  the  unit}^  of  movement  which  is 
essential  to  all  great  strokes  of  policy  ;  that  was  our 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  All 

misfortune  !  If  on  the  25tb  of  August  not  the  shadow 
of  a  Huguenot  had  been  left  in  France,  I  should  go 
down  to  the  uttermost  posterity-  as  a  noble  image  of 
Providence.  How  many,  many  times  have  the  clear- 
sighted souls  of  Sixtus  the  Fifth,  Richelieu,  Bossuet, 
reproached  me  secretly  for  having  failed  in  that  enter- 
prise after  having  the  boldness  to  conceive  it !  How 
many  and  deep  regrets  for  that  failure  attended  my 
deathbed  !  Thirty  years  after  the  Saint-Bartholomew 
the  evil  it  might  have  cured  was  still  in  existence. 
That  failure  caused  ten  times  more  blood  to  flow  in 
France  than  if  the  massacre  of  August  24th  had  been 
completed  on  the  26th.  The  revocation  of  the  Edict  of 
Nantes,  in  honor  of  which  3^ou  have  struck  medals, 
has  cost  more  tears,  more  blood,  more  mone}',  and  killed 
the  prosperit}^  of  France  far  more  than  three  Saint- 
Bartholomews.  Letellier  with  his  pen  gave  effect  to 
a  decree  which  the  throne  had  secretly  promulgated 
since  my  time ;  but,  though  the  vast  execution  was 
necessary  of  the  25th  of  August,  1572,  on  the  25th  of 
August,  1685,  it  was  useless.  Under  the  second  son  of 
Henri  de  Valois  heres}^  had  scarcely  conceived  an  off- 
spring ;  under  the  second  son  of  Henri  de  Bourbon 
that  teeming  mother  had  cast  her  spawn  over  the  whole 
universe.  You  accuse  me  of  a  crime,  and  you  put  up 
statues  to  the  son  of  Anne  of  Austria!  Nevertheless, 
he  and  I  attempted  the  same  thing ;  he  succeeded,  I 
failed ;  but  Louis  XIV.  found  the  Protestants  without 
arms,  whereas  in  my  reign  they  had  powerful  armies, 
statesmen,  warriors,  and  all  Germany  on  their  side.' 
At  these  words,  slowly  uttered,  I  felt  an  inward  shudder 
pass  through  me.     I  fancied  I  breathed  the  fumes  of 


412  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

blood  from  I  know  not  what  great  mass  of  victims. 
Catherine  was  magnified.  She  stood  before  me  like  an 
evil  genius ;  she  sought,  it  seemed  to  me,  to  enter  my 
consciousness  and  abide  there." 

''He  dreamed  all  that,''  whispered  Beaumarchais ; 
"  he  certainly  never  invented  it." 

utjyjy  reason  is  bewildered/  I  said  to  the  queen. 
'  You  praise  yourself  for  an  act  which  three  generations 
of  men  have  condemned,  stigmatized,  and  — '  '  Add/ 
she  rejoined,  '  that  historians  have  been  more  unjust 
toward  me  than  my  contemporaries.  None  have  de- 
fended me.  I,  rich  and  all-powerful,  am  accused  of 
ambition  !  I  am  taxed  with  cruelty',  —  I  who  have  but 
two  deaths  upon  my  conscience.  Even  to  impartial 
minds  I  am  still  a  problem.  Do  you  believe  that  I  was 
actuated  by  hatred,  that  vengeance  and  fury  were  the 
breath  of  my  nostrils  ? '  She  smiled  with  pity.  '  No,' 
she  continued,  'I  was  cold  and  calm  as  reason  itself. 
I  condemned  the  Huguenots  without  pity,  but  without 
passion ;  they  were  the  rotten  fruit  in  my  basket  and  I 
cast  them  out.  Had  I  been  Queen  of  England,  I  should 
have  treated  seditious  Catholics  in  the  same  way.  The 
life  of  our  power  in  those  days  depended  on  there  being 
but  one  God,  one  Faith,  one  Master  in  the  State. 
Happily  for  me,  I  uttered  my  justification  in  one  sen- 
tence which  history  is  transmitting.  When  Birago 
falsel}'  announced  to  me  the  loss  of  the  battle  of  Dreux, 
I  answered  :  ''  Well  then  ;  we  will  go  to  the  Protestant 
churches."  Did  I  hate  the  Reformers  ?  No,  I  esteemed 
them  much,  and  I  knew  them  little.  If  I  felt  any  aver- 
sion to  the  politicians  of  my  time,  it  was  to  that  base 
Cardinal  de  Lorraine,  and  to  his  brother  the  shrewd 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  413 

and  brutal  soldier  who  spied  upon  my  ever}^  act.  They 
were  the  real  enemies  of  my  children  ;  they  sought  to 
snatch  the  crown ;  I  saw  them  daily  at  work  and  they 
wore  me  out.  If  we  had  not  ordered  the  Saint-Barthol- 
omew, the  Guises  would  have  done  the  same  thing  by 
the  help  of  Rome  and  the  monks.  The  League,  which 
was  powerful  only  in  consequence  of  my  old  age,  would 
have  begun  in  1573/  *  But,  madame,  instead  of  or- 
dering that  horrible  murder  (pardon  my  plainness)  why 
not  have  emploj^ed  the  vast  resources  of  your  political 
power  in  giving  to  the  Reformers  those  wise  institu- 
tions which  made  the  reign  of  Henri  IV.  so  glorious  and 
so  peaceful?'  She  smiled  again  and  shrugged  her 
shoulders,  the  hollow  wrinkles  of  her  pallid  face  giv- 
ing her  an  expression  of  the  bitterest  sarcasm.  '  The 
peoples,'  she  said,  '  need  periods  of  rest  after  savage 
feuds ;  there  lies  the  secret  of  that  reign.  But  Henri 
IV.  committed  two  irreparable  blunders.  He  ought 
neither  to  have  abjured  Protestantism,  nor,  after  be- 
coming a  Catholic  himself,  should  he  have  left  France 
Catholic.  He,  alone,  was  in  a  position  to  have  changed 
the  whole  face  of  France  without  a  jar.  Either  not  a 
stole,  or  not  a  conventicle  —  that  should  have  been  his 
motto.  To  leave  two  bitter  enemies,  two  antagonistic 
principles  in  a  government  with  nothing  to  balance 
them,  that  is  the  crime  of  kings  ;  it  is  thus  that  they 
sow  revolutions.  To  God  alone  belongs  the  rio;ht  to 
keep  good  and  evil  perpetually  together  in  his  work. 
But  it  may  be,'  she  said  reflectively,  '  that  that  sentence 
was  inscribed  on  the  foundation  of  Henri  IV. 's  policy, 
and  it  may  have  caused  his  death.  It  is  impossible  that 
Sully  did  not  cast  covetous  ejes  on  the  vast  wealth  of 


414  Catherine  cle'  Medici, 

the  clerg}',  —  which  the  clerg}^  did  not  possess  in  peace, 
for  the  nobles  robbed  them  of  at  least  two-thirds  of 
their  revenue.  Sully,  the  Reformer,  himself  owned 
abbeys.*  She  paused,  and  appeared  to  reflect.  '  But,* 
she  resumed,  '  remember  you  are  asking  the  niece  of  a 
pope  to  justif}'  her  Catholicism.*  She  stopped  again. 
'  And  yet,  after  all,*  she  added  with  a  gesture  of  some 
levit}',  '  I  should  have  made  a  good  Calvinist !  Do  the 
wise  men  of  3'our  centur}'  still  think  that  religion  had 
anything  to  do  with  that  struggle,  the  greatest  which 
Europe  has  ever  seen  ?  —  a  vast  revolution,  retarded  by 
little  causes  which,  however,  will  not  be  prevented  from 
overwhelming  the  world  because  I  failed  to  smother 
it;  a  revolution,*  she  said,  giving  me  a  solemn  look, 
*  which  is  still  advancing,  and  which  3'ou  might  consum- 
mate. Yes,  2/ow,  who  hear  me  !  *  I  shuddered.  '  What ! 
has  no  one  yet  understood  that  the  old  interests  and 
the  new  interests  seized  Rome  and  Luther  as  mere  ban- 
ners ?  What !  do  they  not  know  that  Louis  IX.,  to  escape 
just  such  a  struggle,  dragged  a  population  a  hundredfold 
more  in  number  than  I  destroyed  from  their  homes  and 
left  their  bones  on  the  sands  of  Egypt,  for  which  he  was 
made  a  saint?  while  I  —  But  I,*  she  added,  'failed.* 
She  bowed  her  head  and  was  silent  for  some  moments. 
I  no  longer  beheld  a  queen,  but  rather  one  of  those 
ancient  druidesses  to  whom  human  lives  are  sacrificed  ; 
who  unroll  the  pages  of  tlie  future  and  exhume  the 
teachings  of  the  past.  But  soon  she  uplifted  her  regal 
and  majestic  form.  '  Luther  and  Calvin,*  she  said,  'b}^ 
calling  the  attention  of  the  burghers  to  the  abuses  of 
the  Roman  Church,  gave  birth  in  Europe  to  a  spirit  of 
investigation  which  was  certain  to  lead  the  peoples  to 


I 


Catherine  de*  Medici.  415 

examine  all  things.  Examination  leads  to  doubt.  In- 
stead of  faith,  which  is  necessarj^  to  all  societies,  those 
two  men  drew  after  them,  in  the  far  distance,  a  strange 
philosopiiy,  armed  with  hammers,  liungr}^  for  destruc- 
tion. Science  sprang,  sparkling  with  her  specious  lights, 
from  the  bosom  of  heresy.  It  was  far  less  a  question 
of  reforming  a  Church  than  of  winning  indefinite  liberty 
for  man  —  which  is  the  death  of  power.  I  saw  that. 
The  consequence  of  the  successes  won  by  the  religion- 
ists in  their  struggle  against  the  priesthood  (already 
better  armed  and  more  formidable  than  the  Crown) 
was  the  destruction  of  the  monarchical  power  raised  by 
Louis  XI.  at  such  vast  cost  upon  the  ruins  of  feudalit}'. 
It  involved,  in  fact,  nothing  less  than  the  annihilation 
of  religion  and  royalty",  on  the  ruins  of  which  the  whole 
burgher  class  of  Europe  meant  to  stand.  The  struggle 
was  therefore  war  without  quarter  between  the  new  ideas 
and  the  law,  —  that  is,  the  old  beliefs.  The  Catholics 
were  the  emblem  of  the  material  interests  of  royalt}',  of 
the  great  lords,  and  of  the  clergy.  It  was  a  duel  to 
the  death  between  two  giants  ;  unfortunatel}',  the  Saint- 
Bartholomew  proved  to  be  only  a  wound.  Remember 
this :  because  a  few  drops  of  blood  were  spared  at  that 
opportune  moment,  torrents  were  compelled  to  flow  at  a 
later  period.  The  intellect  which  soars  above  a  nation 
cannot  escape  a  great  misfortune  ;  I  mean  the  misfor- 
tune of  finding  no  equals  capable  of  judging  it  when  it 
succumbs  beneath  the  weight  of  untoward  events.  My 
equals  are  few  ;  fools  are  in  the  majority :  that  state- 
ment explains  all.  If  my  name  is  execrated  in  France, 
the  fault  lies  with  the  commonplace  minds  who  form  the 
mass  of  all  generations.     In  the  great  crises  through 


416  Catherine  de'  Medici. 

which  I  passed,  the  duty  of  reigning  was  not  the  mere 
giving  of  audiences,  reviewing  of  troops,  signing  of 
decrees.  I  may  have  committed  mistakes,  for  I  was 
but  a  woman.  But  why  was  there  then  no  man  who 
rose  above  his  age?  The  Duke  of  Alba  had  a  soul 
of  iron;  Philip  II.  was  stupefied  b}^  CathoHc  belief; 
Henri  IV.  was  a  gambling  soldier  and  a  libertine ;  the 
Admiral,  a  stubborn  mule.  Louis  XI.  lived  too  soon, 
Kichelieu  too  late.  Virtuous  or  criminal,  guilty  or  not 
in  the  Saint-Bartholomew,  I  accept  the  onus  of  it ;  I 
stand  between  those  two  great  men,  —  the  visible  link 
of  an  unseen  chain.  The  day  will  come  when  some 
paradoxical  writer  will  ask  if  the  peoples  have  not  be- 
stowed the  title  of  executioner  upon  their  victims.  It 
will  not  be  the  first  time  that  humanity  has  preferred  to 
immolate  a  god  rather  than  admit  its  own  guilt.  You 
are  shedding  upon  two  hundred  clowns,  sacrificed  for 
a  purpose,  the  tears  you  refuse  to  a  generation,  a  cen- 
tury, a  world  !  You  forget  that  political  liberty,  the 
tranquillit}'  of  a  nation,  nay,  knowledge  itself,  are 
gifts  on  which  destiny  has  laid  a  tax  of  blood  ! '  '  But,' 
I  exclaimed,  with  tears  in  my  eyes,  *  will  the  nations 
never  be  happy  at  less  cost  ? '  '  Truth  never  leaves 
her  well  but  to  bathe  in  the  blood  which  refreshes  her,* 
she  replied.  '  Christianity,  itself  the  essence  of  all  truth, 
since  it  comes  from  God,  was  fed  b^^  the  blood  of  mar- 
t3^rs,  which  flowed  in  torrents ;  and  shall  it  not  ever 
flow?  You  will  learn  this,  you  who  are  destined  to  be 
one  of  the  builders  of  the  social  edifice  founded  by  the 
Apostles.  So  long  as  you  level  heads  you  will  be  ap- 
plauded, but  take  your  trowel  in  hand,  begin  to  recon- 
struct, and  your  fellow^  will  kill  30U/     Blood!  blood! 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  411 

the  word  sounded  in  my  ears  like  a  knell.  *  According 
to  you,'  I  cried,  '  Protestantism  has  the  right  to  reason 
as  you  do  !  *  But  Catherine  had  disappeared,  as  if  some 
puff  of  air  had  suddenly  extinguished  the  supernatural 
light  which  enabled  mv  mind  to  see  that  Figure  whose 
proportions  had  gradually  become  gigantic.  And  then, 
without  warning,  I  found  within  me  a  portion  of  myself 
which  adopted  the  monstrous  doctrine  delivered  by  the 
Italian.  I  woke,  weeping,  bathed  in  sweat,  at  the  mo- 
ment when  m}"  reason  told  me  firmly,  in  a  gentle  voice, 
that  neither  kings  nor  nations  had  the  right  to  apply 
such  principles,  fit  only  for  a  world  of  atheists." 

''  How  would  you  save  a  falling  monarchy?  *'  asked 
Beaumarchais. 

''  God  is  present,"  replied  the  little  lawyer. 

"•  Therefore,"  remarked  Monsieur  de  Calonne,  with 
the  inconceivable  levitv  which  characterized  him,  ^'  we 
have  the  agreeable  resource  of  believing  ourselves 
the  instruments  of  God,  according  to  the  Gospel  of 
Bossuet." 

As  soon  as  the  ladies  discovered  that  the  tale  related 
only  to  a  conversation  between  the  queen  and  the 
lawyer,  they  had  begun  to  whisper  and  to  show  signs 
of  impatience,  —  interjecting,  now  and  then,  little  phrases 
through  his  speech.  *  How  wearisome  he  is  ! '  '  M}' 
dear,  when  will  he  finish  ? '  were  among  those  which 
reached  my  ear. 

When  the  strange  little  man  had  ceased  speaking 
the  ladies  too  were  silent ;  Monsieur  Bodard  was  sound 
asleep  ;  the  surgeon,  half  drunk  ;  Monsieur  de  Calonne 
was  smiling  at  the  lady  next  him.  Lavoisier,  Beau- 
marchais,   and  I  alone    had   listened  to   the   lawyer's 

27 


418  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

dream.  The  silence  at  this  moment  had  something 
solemn  about  it.  The  gleam  of  the  candles  seemed  to 
me  magical.  A  sentiment  bound  all  three  of  us  by 
some  mysterious  tie  to  that  singular  little  man,  who 
made  me,  strange  to  say,  conceive,  suddenlj^,  the 
inexplicable  influences  of  fanaticism.  Nothing  less 
than  the  hollow,  cavernous  voice  of  Beaumarchais's 
neighbor,  the  surgeon,  could,  I  think,  have  roused  me. 

''  I,  too,  have  dreamed,"  he  said. 

I  looked  at  him  more  attentivel}',  and  a  feeling  of 
some  strange  horror  came  over  me.  His  livid  skin,  his 
features,  huge  and  3^et  ignoble,  gave  an  exact  idea  of 
what  3'ou  must  allow  me  to  call  the  scum  of  the  earth. 
A  few  bluish-black  spots  were  scattered  over  his  face, 
like  bits  of  mud,  and  his  eyes  shot  forth  an  evil  gleam. 
The  face  seemed,  perhaps,  darker,  more  lowering  than 
it  was,  because  of  the  white  hair  piled  like  hoarfrost  on 
his  head. 

"  That  man  must  have  buried  many  a  patient,"  I 
whispered  to  m}^  neighbor  the  law3'er. 

"  I  would  n't  trust  him  with  my  dog,"  he  answered. 

*'  1  hate  him  involuntaril}*." 

"  For  my  part,  I  despise  him." 

"  Perhaps  we  are  unjust,"  I  remarked. 

*'  Ha !  to-morrow  he  may  be  as  famous  as  Volange 
the  actor." 

Monsieur  de  Calonne  here  motioned  us  to  look  at  the 
surgeon,  with  a  gesture  that  seemed  to  sa}' :  ''I  think 
he  '11  be  very  amusing." 

"  Did  3'ou  dream  of  a  queen?  "  asked  Beaumarchais. 

"  No,  I  dreamed  of  a  People,"  replied  the  surgeon, 
with  an  emphasis  which  made  us  laugh.     "  I  was  then 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  419 

in  charge  of  a  patient  wiiose  leg  I  was  to  amputate  the 
next  day  —  " 

"  Did  you  find  the  People  in  the  leg  of  your  patient?  " 
asked  Monsieur  de  Calonne. 

''Precisely,"  replied  the  surgeon. 

"  How  amusing  !  "  cried  Madame  de  Genlis. 

"  I  was  somewhat  surprised,"  went  on  the  speaker, 
without  noticing  the  interruption,  and  sticking  his 
hands  into  the  gussets  of  his  breeches,  "  to  hear 
something  talking  to  me  within  that  leg.  I  then  found 
I  had  the  singular  faculty  of  entering  the  being  of  my 
patient.  Once  within  his  skin  I  saw  a  marvellous 
number  of  little  creatures  which  moved,  and  thought, 
and  reasoned.  Some  of  them  lived  in  the  body  of  the 
man,  others  lived  in  his  mind.  His  ideas  were  beings 
which  were  born,  and  grew,  and  died ;  they  were  sick 
and  well,  and  gaj^ ,  and  sad ;  they  all  had  special 
countenances ;  they  fought  with  each  other,  or  the}'' 
embraced  each  other.  Some  ideas  sprang  forth  and 
went  to  live  in  the  world  of  intellect.  I  began  to  see 
that  there  were  two  worlds,  two  universes,  —  the  visible 
universe,  and  the  invisible  universe  ;  that  the  earth 
had,  like  man,  a  bod}'  and  a  soul.  Nature  illumined 
herself  for  me ;  I  felt  her  immensity  when  I  saw  the 
oceans  of  beings  who,  in  masses  and  in  species,  spread 
everywhere,  making  one  sole  and  uniform  animated 
Matter,  from  the  stone  of  the  earth  to  God.  Magni- 
ficent vision !  In  short,  I  found  a  universe  within 
my  patient.  When  I  inserted  my  knife  into  his 
gangrened  leg  I  cut  into  a  million  of  those  little  beings. 
Oh !  you  laugh,  madame ;  let  me  tell  you  that  you 
are  eaten  up  by  such  creatures  — " 


420  Catherine  de'  Medici, 

'-'-  No  personalities  !"  interposed  Monsieur  de  Calonne. 
*'  Speak  for  yourself  and  for  your  patient." 

''  My  patient,  frightened  by  the  cries  of  his  ani- 
malcules, wanted  to  stop  the  operation  ;  but  I  went  on 
regardless  of  his  remonstrances  ;  telling  him  that  those 
evil  animals  were  already  gnawing  at  his  bones.  He 
made  a  sudden  movement  of  resistance,  not  under- 
standing that  what  I  did  was  for  his  good,  and  my 
knife  slipped  aside,  entered  m}^  own  body,  and  —  " 

"  He  is  stupid,"  said  Lavoisier. 

*'  No,  he  is  drunk,"  replied  Beaumarchais. 

"  But,  gentlemen,  my  dream  has  a  meaning,"  cried 
the  surgeon. 

''  Oh  !  oh  !  "  exclaimed  Bodard,  waking  up  ;  "  mj^leg 
is  asleep !  " 

"  Your  animalcules  must  be  dead,"  said  his  wife. 

"  That  man  has  a  vocation,"  announced  m}"  little 
neighbor,  who  had  stared  imperturbably  at  the 
surgeon  while  he  was  speaking. 

"  It  is  to  yours,"  said  the  ugly  man,  "  what  the  action 
is  to  the  word,  the  body  to  the  soul." 

But  his  tongue  grew  thick,  his  words  were  indistinct, 
and  he  said  no  more.  Fortunately  for  us  the  conver- 
sation took  another  turn.  At  the  end  of  half  an  hour 
we  had  forgotten  the  surgeon  of  the  king's  pages,  who 
was  fast  asleep.  Rain  was  falling  in  torrents  as  we 
left  the  supper-table. 

"The  lawyer  is  no  fool,"  I  said  to  Beaumarchais. 

"  True,  but  he  is  cold  and  dull.  You  see,  however, 
that  the  provinces  are  still  sending  us  worth}'  men  who 
take  a  serious  view  of  political  theories  and  the  history 
of  France.     It  is  a  leaven  which  will  rise.'* 


Catherine  de'  Medici.  421 

"  Is  your  carriage  here?"  asked  Madame  de  Saint- 
James,   addressing  me. 

''  No,"  I  replied,  ''  I  did  not  think  that  I  should  need 
it  to-night." 

Madame  de  Saint- James  then  rang  the  bell,  ordered 
her  own  carriage  to  be  brought  round,  and  said  to  the 
little  lawyer  in  a  low  voice : — 

"  Monsieur  de  Robespierre,  will  you  do  me  the  kind- 
ness to  drop  Monsieur  Marat  at  his  own  door  ?  —  for  he 
is  not  in  a  state  to  go  alone." 

"With  pleasure,  madame,"  replied  Monsieur  de 
Robespierre,  with  his  finical  gallantr}-.  "  I  only  wish 
you  had  requested  me  to  do  something  more  difficult." 


THE    END. 


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